Asbolus
by Fenikkusu Ai
Summary: Dean is left traumatized. Alastair isn't done yet. Sequel to Struggle of Surrender. Written for 10 fics and 12 fics.
1. Over and Over

Title: Over and Over

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Characters: Alastair/Dean, Sam

Prompt: 001 Fall

Table: 9

Rating: M

Warning: Mentions of torture.

Word Count: 375

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Dean dreams of falling. Over and over again.

He curls up on the motel bed and tries to stave off sleep as much as he can. It's 4:03, and he's still awake. In two hours, it will be dawn.

He can hear Sam's breathing over on the other side of the room, but it doesn't soothe him. Sam can't save him from the nightmares.

He knows the routine. One minute, he's awake, and the next he's swallowed by darkness with something after him. He remembers. He remembers it all. Sometimes, he remembers things out of order, or things that never really happened.

And in the shadows, his nightmare awaits.

"Dean. My good boy. Hello, Dean." Alastair's voice reeks of memories.

In his dreams, Alastair is always standing there. Sometimes, the rack is there. Sometimes, it's not. But, Alastair is always _smiling_.

Dean backs away and bumps right into the demon himself. Alastair is everywhere. In every corner of his mind; breathing in his ear.

"Missed you, Deano."

Dean chokes and tries to turn away, but Alastair grips his torso and holds him fast.

"Didn't you miss me?"

Dean is staring into the demon's white eyes, and he can't look away. His reflection is imprisoned in their glassy spheres.

He screams in the blackness and sometimes wakes himself up.

Other times, he wakes up on the rack, watching lovingly caressing the very familiar knife until Dean feels bile rise up in his throat. He knows he won't scream right away, and a knows it too. He purposefully drags it out; teasing him with the blade.

"So shiny, isn't it? Beautiful, quiet, and gets the job done. Kind of like you, Deano."

Dean wails pitifully, and he struggles against his bonds out of habit. There's no avoiding your fate here. Your punishment. Your hell. His feeble movements make a laugh and laugh until the sound reverberates everywhere.

Dean screams in real life; clutching at the blankets and thrashing wildly against the mattress.

"Dean? Dean, what is it?"

He looks at Sam through terrified eyes, but plays it down. He never wants his brother to know if he can help it. "Another nightmare."

"What? Do you remember it this time at least?"

"No."

Dean lies over and over.


	2. Routine

Title: Routine

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Characters: Alastair/Dean, Castiel

Prompt: 002 Clouds

Table: 9

Rating: M

Warning: Inexplicit sex.

Word Count: 528

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Dean closes his eyes and indulges in the late autumn sunlight. For once, he just wants to hear the leaves whisper in the wind and look at the damned clouds. Is that too much to ask for?

He sighs as he laid back on the hood of the Impala. It was good just to…escape for a little while. The sunlight was warm and nonthreatening on his jeans. If he could still his mind, all would be fine.

The clouds are white and puffy swirled in an endless blue sky. Like that fateful afternoon on September 18 when he dug himself out of his own grave. It was an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere, far off the beaten path. An uncanny resemblance to his own life.

Panting, exhausted, Dean coughed and spat on the wild grass nearly dying again from a lack of oxygen. For a while, all he could do was marvel at the world and regain his bearings; weak and defenseless as a baby bird. He was free and no one was going to cage him again.

When he stood up, he surveyed the damage around him. It looked like a bomb had detonated. The ground had been burned in a near perfect circle. Dean guessed Cas needed a lot of force to drag him out of hell. If he had remained another ten or twenty years, what he would he look like now?

_A monster._

Dean settles against the hood of the car. Before he knows it, his eyes close...

_

* * *

_

_The sky in hell was always a boiling black. There was no sun. No beauty. Just an endless stormy night streaked with lightning. _

_Alastair said the sky was beautiful._

_Rare for a demon to crave the pit rather than covet the earth. This further proved the torturer's perverse nature that even alienated other demons. _

_Alastair hated to waste time. It was always work, work, work. However, when they played, it was only one game._

_Dean lowered himself to his knees with Alastair's eyes burning into his skull. Without being told, he took Alastair into his mouth. Dean felt no shame or embarrassment. Getting off Alastair off was as routine now as tuning a car._

_Alastair emptied himself and Dean swallowed. The taste was bitter, but not terrible. He waited for Alastair to give the order._

_A chuckle. "Good boy. Get up."_

_Dean rose to his feet. There was more work to do._

* * *

"Dean? Are you all right?"

Dean wakes with a start to see his angel staring at him.

"Just sleeping."

Castiel isn't stupid. His eyes never leave Dean's own. Dean figures he might as well say it.

"Cas…can't you use your angel powers to get rid of my memories?"

The a slowly shook his head. "It's not that simple. Your soul will always remember even if your mind forgets, Dean. Your soul is traumatized."

So matter-of-fact. So emotionless. So Cas.

When Dean looks up again, the clouds are gone, and he is left staring into boundless blue.

He'd already experienced hell. Dean wonders what heaven was like.


	3. Injury

Title: Injury

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Characters: Alastair/Dean, Sam

Prompt: 003 Solitude

Table: 9

Rating: M

Warning: Mentions of torture.

Word Count: 584

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

The rush of agony made him gasp. He'd had far worse injuries, but one never forgets the sensation of pain. He never would.

Dean cupped his wounded chin where the disposable razor had nicked him. The bright scarlet of his blood brought back memories. The pain was all too familiar as it fired through his body. So mesmerized by the sensation, he could almost hear Alastair whisper in his ear as he often had before, "_Lick it."_

But, Alastair wasn't here anymore to tell him what to do and when to sleep.

Dean's eyes locked on the blood. The burn of pain was almost…welcome. It made him feel.

So entranced he was, Dean didn't notice the loud pounding on the bathroom door right away.

"Dean? You okay in there?" Sam called through the door.

"Just shaving!" Dean called back.

Shaving. With a razor. It was too weak to do any real damage though, and he should know after a proper tutorial on the use of torture instruments.

Dean eyed his reflection before taking a tissue and mopping up the blood in the solitude of the steamy bathroom while Sam impatiently waited outside.

Sam didn't know about the nightmares. Sam didn't know about anything, and Dean preferred to keep it that way.

It was hard adjusting to earth. Dean's temporary replacement didn't sit well with him. Ruby was a demon, and now he knew what demons were like behind their pretty masks and mutable personalities. Ruby's smirk was downright disturbing when her gaze landed on him.

Did she know? Did she know he was lying about hell? Would she tell Sam?

Dean gripped the porcelain sink. Earth was stressful. More stressful than before. And he was developing insomnia. He didn't want to go back to sleep. In his nightmares, he surrendered all over again, and he remembered how much he _enjoyed_ it. The simple purpose of the knife and the cold blackness of the pit.

Sometimes, he missed that peace.

* * *

"Did I ever tell you about my boy, Deano?" Alastair asked casually to the wildly gasping soul. "I don't believe I have."

"He was beautiful. Gorgeous. With a fiery spirit to match. It took thirty years to break him, and believe me, it was worth it. I know bragging is a sin, but we are in hell after all," Alastair chuckled.

Alastair slid the knife under his "patients's" collarbone.

His tone turned bitter. "Then the angels came and took him away. He could have made a name for himself here with favors, followers, and rank. The works. What a waste. All because they needed him for some greater purpose. Their purpose."

"By the way, I wouldn't get my hopes up. Your chances of being brought back to life are rather slim."

"Please…" the soul gurgled.

Alastair looked down disinterestedly. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I suppose I've just been so…bored."

In one quick motion, he sliced the soul's throat and watched the wraith die. It would eventually resurrect, but Alastair's attention was now elsewhere.

But, he knew that his boy was no doubt thinking of him as well. Scars left from the pit were hard to mend. Tough on the soul. Alastair wondered _how_ often Dean thought about him. Dreamt about him. Worried that he would be there breathing down his neck in a borrowed human body.

That day was nearly here. Alastair lived for the hour when Dean's eyes would widen in comprehension that the demon was taking him back.

Permanently.


	4. Memento

Title: Memento

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Characters: Alastair/Dean, Sam

Prompt: 004 Dream

Table: 9

Rating: M

Word Count: 548

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Dean knew it was going to be a bad day as soon as his eyes opened. For once, there were no dreams. None. Just five hours of uninterrupted sleep. After two months, there were no flashing white eyes.

At first, Dean thought nothing of it. But, a black pit of gnawing worry churned in his gut all the same.

The atmosphere inside the church was too tense. Even for an angel and a demon sharing the same room.

The twin streaks of blood coursing down the Virgin Mary's chalky white stone cheeks were a warning; a warning that Dean was slow to respond to. A thought flashed in Dean's mind.

_Watch the steps._

Dean did so. Within seconds, the door at the top flew off its hinges. He watched the older gentleman walk through. Watched him run his hand smoothly down the banister; rubbing his fingers together in disgust as if to illustrate its filthiness.

Out of the corner of Dean's eye, Sam tried to halt him with his psychic ability.

What registered next was his brother flying off his feet. On instinct, Dean attacked the intruder.

"Hello again, Dean." The fiend's expression managed to look fatherly, but his eyes were dark and full of malice. And familiar...

Out of the blue, the demon struck Dean. The knife clattered to the floor.

"Don't you recognize me? Oh, I forgot. I'm wearing a pediatrician."

_Slam._

"But, we were so close," he purred. "In hell."

Pain ringing through his face, Dean forced himself to spit out the name. "Alastair," he croaked.

Alastair chuckled and smiled jubilantly before resuming his beating with bruise-causing blows. Dean's head was beginning to spin. Alastair...back?

And now, Alastair was more than willing to finish the job as his blows became more brutal. Bastard. Dean should have known that Alastair wanted to bring Dean back personally.

Sam rights himself, plunges the dagger into Alastair's shoulder, and everything just goes haywire.

Dean and Sam catch each other's eye. They nod in understanding. They weren't going to win this fight.

While Alastair madly turns around in a circle trying to get the knife out; Sam and Dean grab onto each other and jump out the window. Their only chance.

Dean's intuition had been right.

* * *

_He runs from me. He dares to try to attack me, and then he runs from me?_

Alastair glared out the window. They were gone. Dean and his damned brother both. His shoulder hurt, but pain was part of his job. Alastair could take it as well as inflict it though he preferred the latter.

Earth had made his boy forgetful. Dean was no longer dead, but that didn't mean he couldn't be made so.

Dean's eyes had a startled fawn quality to them. He was no longer sure of himself. He was on edge. Clumsy. Nervous. No longer strong and graceful like Alastair remembered. He sighed. This is what happened when charges left his care.

But, behind the fear, Alastair could still glimpse the rage. Rage and fear were interchangeable. Oh, yes. Dean was still his lump of modeling clay.

Alastair thoughtfully fondles the blood-spattered knife. Dean's knife. He would keep it as a memento of his boy until they met again.

For now, he had to continue his role in this affair...


	5. Captured

Title: Captured

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Characters: Alastair/Dean, Sam, Castiel

Prompt: 005 Memory

Table: 9

Rating: M

Word Count: 561

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

A dream wasn't like a memory. A memory actually happened.

_"Who was that demon?"_

_"No one good."_

How casual Dean had tried to sound about it in the beginning, but he broke down all the same on the hood of his Impala over his warm foamy beer with Sam looking on. He could tell Sam didn't quite understand, but he hadn't been _there_. Sam had digested Dean's story passively. Almost emotionlessly.

Dean didn't have to worry about dreams anymore. Now, he was an insomniac. Watching porn on old motel room TVs as Sam typed away on his laptop. Castiel offered his protection, but it wasn't enough.

Dean slept with a knife under his pillow. Just in case. Dean wondered if Sam had noticed.

It was months until they crossed paths again. Alastair was in a different body. No longer a middle-aged pediatrician but someone tall, bearded, and dangerous in an unassuming blue dress shirt and slacks.

Smugly, Alastair had ripped the scythe through the air just to watch Dean's lips quiver.

"Let's get started then, shall we?" the demon had asked pointedly. The very same words Alastair had used to begin his torture sessions.

_Sick fuck_. Breaking open seals to unleash hell on earth. Of course Alastair had to be a part of it. Dean watched on with white-hot fury as he first slit the old gray-haired reaper's throat before moving onto Tessa. The look on Alastair's face was priceless when the chandelier fell with a crash and Tessa escaped.

Feeling braver now, Dean sneered. "Bye bye."

Outside, once he made sure Tessa was safe, Dean walked down the lonely alley feeling that same anxiety bubbling in his gut.

"You can't run, Dean. Not from _me_." A familiar voice drawled.

Dean stopped and turned. He shuddered as he came face to face with his worst nightmare for the second time. However, on this occasion, he was alone. And, Dean knew he was right. All these months of running, and here he was.

Dean cowered like a dog with its tail between its legs and began stepping backwards.

Alastair's eyes bored into his soul and Dean knew he could taste his fear on his tongue. Malevolently, the demon leered at him.

_Come now, boy. It's time to go home._

Dean wasn't sure if the voice inside his head was his or Alastair's.

Dean whimpered; his muscles went rigid. He could almost feel his knees give way. Back on the rack, he had tried to fight Alastair before. He had failed then, and he was failing now. The bastard was unstoppable.

Uselessly, Dean jammed his hands in his pockets and waited; shivering under his former master's gaze. As long as Alastair existed, he would be his. No other being had managed to break and twist him into total submission.

_Castiel. Castiel, please..._

Suddenly, a white light engulfed Alastair. Dean's eyes squinted closed and when he opened them, Alastair was no longer standing there.

"What the hell?" Dean gasped.

"Guess again," Castiel's gruff voice almost quipped.

Dean was shocked to find his angel standing there. This was the second time Cas had saved from Alastair.

For now, Dean could breathe in relief. Alastair was captured. If anyone could kill the son of a bitch, the angels could. His prayers had been answered.

It was a shame that things couldn't have been kept running smoothly...


	6. Trembling Hand

Title: Trembling Hand

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Characters: Alastair/Dean, Castiel

Prompt: 006 Need

Table: 9

Rating: M

Warning: Non-graphic mentions of torture.

Word Count: 946

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

A/N: The title Asbolus is Greek for "soot." He was a centaur who could foresee the future and read omens in the flight of birds. In astrology, Asbolus relates to being traumatic situations, being the outsider, and other dark subjects.

* * *

Dean shook his head. "You can't ask this of me."

"We understand this is...upsetting." Castiel searched for the right word. "But, we need you, Dean. You were Alastair's best student."

Dean shuddered. He didn't need to be reminded. Alastair was in custody, but he was still alive. Something positive, something negative.

"There is no other choice, Dean. This isn't just about you. This is about the universe. We need to know who's killing the angels."

Dean knew he'd always have to face Alastair again. Either topside or down below. Grudgingly, Dean nodded. He'd do it. He'd suck it up and be a hero like he always did.

Dean wheeled the torture instruments in like it was a damned dessert tray.

"Heaven," Alastair mumbled.

Dean pushed on ahead.

"I'm in heaven," the fiend chortled. "And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. And I seem to find the happiness I seek. When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek."

Dean ignored Alastair's horrible singing. He also ignored the subject matter. There was no dancing between them now.

_Torture Alastair. That's my job._

Warningly, Dean stripped off the tarp to show Alastair exactly what was under it and was met with Alastair's caustic laughter. His jaw tightened.

"Are they serious? They sent you to torture me?"

Dean was in no mood for this shit. And he would. He had knowledge, experience, and training from Alastair himself. Alastair wouldn't like his own weapon turned against himself. It's a shame he couldn't gag him, but Dean needed a confession, and he knew that Alastair was going to hold it off as much as possible. Two angels couldn't break him, and Dean knew why. Alastair was the sickest, most depraved demon he had ever met. He even beat Azazel on that score. Unfortunately, he was also one of the strongest.

"I'm sure you want a little payback for all the pokes and prods."

Dean stoicly kept silent. Alastair wasn't worth it.

"No?" Alastair cocked his head to the side. "Then, how about all the things I did to your daddy?"

Alastair's other favorite subject. His dad. His obsessed pieces of work father who had gotten himself killed for his sake. Then, Dean does the same thing. Sins of the father...

"And then came Dean." Alastair sighed dramatically. "Dean Winchester. And I thought I was up against it _again_. But, Daddy's little girl broke. He broke in _thirty_." Alastair grinned sadistically.

His torment in hell reduced to five sentences. He knew what Alastair was doing. Egging him on.

_Fine, you son of a bitch. You've driven me to it._

Alastair had officially pushed Dean to the breaking point. He hitched himself up by the bootstraps and began emptying the spring water into the wide silver goblet; trailing in the rosary beads to bless it.

"Oh, now we're getting somewhere..."

_"_You know, Alastair," Dean cut in, "even in hell, I could still dream. And over and over, you know what I dreamt? This moment."

Dean dipped the syringe into the holy water. "And believe me, I have a few ideas."

Once the barrel was filled, he held the needle in front of Alastair's nose; releasing the plunger in a fine spray of water. Alastair gauged him silently and Dean was pleased to see a twinge of apprehension in Alastair's eyes.

"Let's get started." Dean's voice was a near perfect imitation of Alastair's as he brandished the needle.

Alastair's muffled grunts and writhing got sickening to watch after twenty minutes or so. Especially when it seemed that Alastair appeared to be growing used to it after repeated injections. Dean decided to switch strategies with a different instrument.

Dean splashed holy water on the knife without a thought. He needed to keep his mind clear. Unfortunately, Alastair was fixed on keeping Dean conflicted.

"Do you...really think this is going to fix you?" Alastair heaved. "Give you...closure? That is sad. That's really sad."

Dean drifted towards him.

"Sad, sad, sad," Alastair continued before leering at his former pupil with twisted lips.

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat as the words hit home. "Maybe you're right. But now, it's _my_ turn to carve."

Without further ado, he twisted the blessed knife in a guts. It was impressive that even under this amount of stress, Alastair did not cry out.

When Alastair's face fell forward, a flare of hope ignited in Dean's chest. Gaugingly, Dean cupped Alastair's face and brought him up, searching his eyes for some shred of agony or remorse. Dean wanted him to _feel_ something. Anything.

Alastair grinned toothily, red blood staining his chops as he laughed deep in his chest.

"You know, it's your professionalism that I respect."

Dean made a face and let him go. Before he turned back around, he caught sight of the gob of blood Alastair spat on the ground. Disgusting bastard.

And he wouldn't shut up.

"You know, Dean, you have no idea how bad it really was. And what you had really done for us."

Dean's voice turned threatening. "Shut up."

"The whole bloody thing, Dean. The reason Lillith wanted you there..."

"Then, I'll just _make_ you shut up."

Dean grabbed the container of salt and made way for Alastair's gullet. It would be hard for any demon to talk with salt searing its throat lining.

It happened in an instant. Dean looked into Alastair's face. His hateful fucking face. The hunter's hand started to tremble. His pulse skyrocketed as a sinking feeling settled over his chest when he leaned in and...

...kissed the demon on his whiskered lips.

"Mixing pain with pleasure, my boy?" Alastair murmured. "I _did_ teach you well."


	7. Revelation

Title: Revelation

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Prompt: 007 Behind

Table: 9

Rating: M

Warning: Non-graphic mentions of torture.

Word Count: 841

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

_What have I done?_

Dean hastily stepped away from Alastair. His lips were fixed in a smile.

"I've always known that you would do me proud," Alastair purred.

Shaken, Dean stumbled backwards away from the demon. He turned around. Right. Torture Alastair. He wasn't here to kiss him or gain his favor. Those days were over.

However, in his treacherous mind's eye, he could see himself going somewhere. Somewhere it didn't hurt anymore.

_Control_. He had to stay in control.

How dare the angels ask him to do this? Couldn't he just walk out? Tell Castiel he failed?

"Come on. I'm on your side. I know everything about you. I'm inside your head, remember? I know what you long for." Alastair's voice was almost soothing.

"No, you don't."

Dean's eyes scanned the table. He spotted the cross. That would cause a nasty burn on Alastair's torso.

"A father only wants what's best for his son..."

Dean's temper was rising. "Shut the fuck up."

"I was more of a father to you than your own."

Dean knew what Alastair was trying to do. Get into his _mind_. And he was so damned good at it.

A mirthful laugh. "Well, you were both sadistic bastards who ruined my life. That's a start."

"But you _love_ that, don't you? You need guidance, Dean. Like a little lost child. You need a firm hand."

Arguing with Alastair had never achieved any desired result. Instead, the demon only turned the screws tighter and used his weaknesses against him.

"Right now you're thinking of running away. Am I right? Every time you torture me, it's like you're torturing yourself."

Dean didn't answer. Instead of reaching for the cross, he grabbed the bottle of whiskey and drank deep from the neck of the bottle.

"More escapism? You have such an addictive personality, Dean."

He swallowed. "I'm not the one in chains anymore. I have the power." If he said it enough times, maybe Dean would come to believe it.

"Do you?"

Dean turned back around to face Alastair. The air crackled with teasing intensity. Dean was remembering. A was remembering too. What a great team they had made. How well that had worked together side by side. In perfect harmony.

It was still inside Dean. Somewhere, deep inside, there was the monster Alastair had carved out of his soul. Lurking behind his heart.

"You _never_ had the power, Dean. You're a tool. My tool. First, you were your father's. Now, the angels are using you. Your father, me, them. Dean Winchester is just everybody's whore, isn't he?"

Dean doesn't even remember making a fist when he punches Alastair's right in the face. The hell fiend's head snaps to the side, but Dean can tell that he barely abosorbed the impact.

"I so missed your rage. Let it out, Dean. It's your best feature. It's been caged inside of you for so long."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut willing himself not to cry.

"I can nurture that rage. You can feel alive again. You can be whole again." Alastair's voice was serepentine.

"What else are you going to promise me? Keys to a new car?"

Alastair abruptly switched gears. "You know, it was supposed to be your father. He was supposed to bring it on."

"Bring what on?" Dean attention was now focused on the knife again. He had grown used to the demon's lies.

"Every night, the same offer, remember? Until finally you said...sign me up."

Methodically, he salted both sides of the knife. Dean didn't like where this was going.

"Oh, the first time you picked up my razor. The first time you sliced into that weeping bitch. That was the first seal."

Dean turned back around. Circled his old teacher. "You're lying."

"And it is written, that when a righteous man sheds blood in hell the first seal shall be broken. As he breaks, so shall it break," Alastair recited.

Dean walked away.

Alastair's voice turned candid. "We had to break the first one before any other. It was the only way to get the dominos to fall, right? Top of the one and the front of the line."

"When we win. When we bring on the apocalypse and bring this earth down. We'll owe it all to you-Dean Winchester. So, you see, my boy. Your anger is capable of great things."

A pause. Dean was feeling his world break apart.

"And, believe me, son. I wouldn't lie about that. It's kind of a religious thing with me."

Dean winced at the word "son."

_I started the apocalypse._

Dean's tongue was thick in his mouth. "No, I don't think you were lying. But, even if the demons do win, you won't be there to see it."

"You should have a talk with your plumber about the pipes."

Dean swallowed his spit. Alastair was standing behind him. Free. Dean didn't even hear the chains clink or hear a footstep. He felt himself lock up leaving Alastair open to strike him across the face.

He blacked out.


	8. Hellfire

Title: Hellfire

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Prompt: 008 Entwined

Table: 9

Rating: M

Warning: Slash.

Word Count: 948

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

"Wakey, wakey, Deano," sang Alastair.

Alastair's fist connected with Dean's gut. He groaned.

"Come now, don't be rude. Haven't I taught you better than that by now?"

Dean slitted open his eyes.

"As it should be. Me holding the knife. You're nowhere near my level, kid."

Alastair edged in closer.

"Now, what was that you said? It's my turn to carve?"

Dean closed his eyes again. He didn't want to watch the knife entering his flesh. At least not so soon.

"But it's not neccesary."

He waited. Waited for Alastair's offer. Even though he already knew what it was.

"You know, I'm tempted to try out this human body, and I've so missed yours. There's no one quite like you Dean. No one quite as durable. No one quite as masochistic as you. Somebody who can take the pain...and enjoy it too."

Alastair brought the knife down Dean's cheek. He shivered. So. Alastair was going to fuck him.

"Something tells me you haven't changed since hell. It's a permanent personality flaw."

The knife was now on his lips and Alastair traced an outline around them before continuing down his Adam's apple.

"What do you say?"

Dean was speechless.

"Or I could just start cutting. Get us both in the mood."

Dean could have called for Cas. He had a feeling that the angels would find him eventually, but his full attention was currently drawn to the blade. Alastair's cruel eyes. His mocking lips.

The pit of fire Alastair was starting to ignite in him...

Dean shakily nodded his head. Alastair grinned and ran his tongue across his teeth.

The demon's lips tasted of sulfur and were hot as flame. The taste turned Dean's stomach, and he knew it was sick and wrong when he grabbed Alastair's hair and deepened the kiss. After six long months or sixty years for the torturer they were finally reunited.

"My boy. Mine."

Dean whimpered as the words took hold.

Alastair was just how Dean remembered. Rough. Animalistic. Running the cold metal down his torso before cutting through his shirt.

Dean's heart thumped with fear, but he began unbuttoning Alastair's shirt all the same to show his acquiescence. Alastair still possessed the knife, and he didn't want the demon to entertain thoughts about killing him.

Once more, he was forced to surrender.

_Play along, Dean. __You'll never see Sam again. You'll be in hell._

Dean didn't know if Castiel would save him again. So, he participated in the kiss, and he rubbed his body up against Alastair's. He could feel just how much Alastair wanted this.

"Eager, are we, Dean?" the demon mocked.

Dean was now shirtless and Alastair's fingers had seized his belt buckle. He grinned triumphantly.

"Do you want this?"

Alastair nearly had his belt off.

"Yes," Dean responded without hesitation.

"So you say. I want to hear commitment, boy."

It was Alastair's turn to seize Dean by his hair.

"I want it," Dean croaked.

With Alastair's laughter in his ears, Dean felt a wave of cool air as his jeans were removed. There was a break in Dean's mind and suddenly he saw himself and Alastair in hell as two figures entwined in hell's eternal fire. Dean watched himself him gasp, in pleasure or pain, he wasn't sure anymore as he writhed beneath Alastair's heavy body. He saw his wounds, and he remembered how he had to thank Alastair for every one like they were presents on Christmas morning.

And now it was happening in real life. Or was he still asleep? Was it another nightmare?

Whatever the case, Dean couldn't wake up. Alastair's tongue was very real against his wisdom teeth and he was now naked and vulnearble.

Above him, Alastair expression matched the cat who was about to drain the bowl of cream dry.

Without any sort of preparation, Alastair thrust into him. Dean hissed in pain and dug his fingernails into Alastair's bare shoulders.

Alastair's new form was powerful with its long limbs and sturdily built. Dean closed his eyes; drifting away once more. He could see himself hanging on the hooks when he had first arrived in hell. He then could see himself meeting Alastair for the first time. Then, he saw himself with black eyes laughing as his newset victim choked on his own blood. Fragmented image after fragmented image.

_This is your destiny, Dean Winchester. Don't fight it. Embrace it._

At the intrusion of pain, Dean groaned and began moving with him; holding Alastair like a lover. All he could do was wait until Alastair finished. If that time ever came.

His hips twitched. Out of the pain came a strange kind of pleasure. Dean knew his body was doing this for its own survival. Accepting Alastair's advances and allowing himself to be violated to invite other sensations.

"You haven't lost your appeal yet, Dean," Alastair sniggered.

Dean didn't respond. He just grit his teeth and waited even though he knew Alastair was going to draw this out as much as possible.

"Why so glum, Dean? You always used to enjoy this."

Alastair began stroking Dean's member and couldn't stifle the groan that escaped his lips.

"Such a good boy. You don't even fight me anymore."

More stroking.

"Would you like me to give you a special treat?"

Alastair moved his hand. Dean grunted in protest when the stimulation was taken away.

"Say please. It's been a while since I've heard you beg."

Dean just wanted it over with.

"Please."

"Whore," Alastair snarled in his ear.

Dean shuddered as he released in a pearlescent pool. Alastair followed with a hiss before grabbing his chin and looking into his eyes.

"Now, what shall I do with you now?"


	9. Oblivion

Title: Oblivion

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Prompt: 009 Bubbles

Table: 9

Rating: M

Warning: Slash.

Word Count: 897

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Dean didn't know how to reply. He was fucked...literally. Violated, abused, and on the brink of hell. One slice of the knife and all would be over. His fate would be sealed.

_Keep talking to Alastair._

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but there no words came out. His vocal cords were frozen.

"What shall I do? What shall I do?" Alastair fretted. "Shall I take you back with me? Back to where you have a purpose? I do missing having you around, Deano. The workshop is lonely without you."

Dean suddenly had the urge to call for Cas long and loud, but he knew he would die with the angel's name on his lips.

"Well, I'm waiting for your answer, Dean. What do you want to happen next? Or, I'll just make up your mind for you..."

_For the angels to come and kick your sorry ass._

Dean was so very tired of this. The nightmares. The endless games.

Alastair was waiting for an answer. It was an answer that was surprisingly the truth.

His traitorous vocal chords made a sound. "To feel something again."

"You've been so lost, haven't you?"

"Yes," Dean whimpered.

He wasn't sure if he was speaking the truth or simply telling the demon what he wanted to hear.

"They don't understand, do they, Dean? They don't understand what pain does to a person. We know."

Alastair stroked his cheek.

"Of course, I'll have to break you again. Get rid of this pesky humanity. But I like you this way too. Cornered like a rabbit with nowhere to run."

Dean saw himself reflected in Alastair's white eyes and saw himself imprisoned in their depths; trapped like a bug in amber. It was over. His breathing slowed. Dean lay limp. He was naked, shivering, and weaponless. Alastair trailed his fingertips down his cheeks tenderly, but Dean knew Alastair eagerly awaited the chance to tear his flesh away to play with his intestines instead.

Alastair waited for his silent permission. To beg for the demon to kill him. To pour out his misery and die with tears sparkling in his lashes.

Silence lay between them. Dean could hear his heartbeat.

Alastair's face was set in a sneer. "What's your favorite way to die, Dean? Not being ripped apart by dogs, I bet."

Dean's eyes rolled back and gazed at the ceiling. He was on the verge on mentally shutting down. Like a needle pricking a bubble. Alastair's left hand gripped his thigh as his other ignited a path to his neck. He caressed Dean's artery.

"One slice is all it takes. The jugular vein is necessary for survival. Or I could simply choke you to death." Thoughtfully, Alastair's fingers tightened around Dean's windpipe. "If I squeezed a bit harder, death would follow."

Dean was already gasping for air.

"Speak while you can, son. Do you want to die fast or slow?"

And, it wasn't a rhetorical question either. Dean was used to dying slow. Being tortured to death as he was systematically dismembered by Alastair's knife. Dying fast would be a mercy. But, in this case, it would send him quicker to hell. He seethed at the unfairness of this choice. Typical Alastair. He felt his life force ebbing away. Dean contemplated spitting in Alastair's face as one of his last acts of defiance, but realized he hadn't yet answered his question.

"You know the answer to that." Dean's voice was sultry smooth. Teasing. With any luck, it would amuse Alastair. Keep himself alive a little longer. He knew he was a dead man running out of options.

The demon chuckled indulgently while gazing down at his toy. Playing along.

"Should we try something new then?"

The sob caught in Dean's throat. Though inaudible to his own ears, he knew Alastair heard it anyway.

"What did you have in mind?" Dean sounded like Alastair's little obidient dog once more.

"Well, you've already experienced my finest craftmanship. I've ripped, tore, and sliced you in all ways known to man. All the classics. All my personal favorites. So, how about I do something better?"

Dean had nearly stopped breathing; his pulse pounding in his ears. He waited for the demon to speak as his eyes closed in defeat.

"Nothing."

Dean's eyes snapped open. He focused his gaze on his tormentor.

"Nothing?" he echoed.

"I can't wait for our next meeting, Dean."

Dean's mind snapped. The dam finally erupted.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean roared. "Don't you dare fucking leave! We're finishing this here."

"Missing me already, Deano? I know this is an opportune time to take you back with me. The perfect time in fact. No meddling angels or annoying brother to stand in my way. But, why give you the only thing you truly want?"

Dean was seething underneath his silence. He'd kill Alastair right here if he could. Only, he didn't have a powerful enough weapon to do the job, or any weapon for that matter. Not even Sam could topple Alastair.

Alastair smiled knowingly. "You want oblivion. To be buried in your grave and stay there. To be forgotten. To not be a burden anymore. I'm not granting your wish."

Dean was torn in two. He didn't want to die, but he was hesitant to live.

He heard retreating footsteps.

"Come back, you sadistic fuck!"

Dean was screaming to an empty room.


	10. Irreplacable

Title: Irreplacable

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Prompt: 010 Spirit

Table: 9

Rating: M

Warning: Slash.

Word Count: 858

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

A man was measured by the worth of his spirit.

Dean had possessed a rich spirit. A dazzling soul. Far too fine for the pit. Selfless, righteous, and...good. Alastair had shattered Dean's spirit into dozens of scattered pieces like hurling a crystal wineglass against a wall and only he knew how the pieces fit together. Until the angel collected the broken shards and rebuilt him once more.

There would be a high price for stealing his charge. His creation. Oh, how he loathed Castiel.

Dean was still a challenge. How many could be reduced to a shell of their former selves when meething their nemesis over and over again? Not Dean. Instead, Dean cracked jokes. Such a strong boy. Irreplacable.

It would take time for him to track down Dean again, and he would follow. Treasures such as Dean weren't found everyday: a hero with the instinct of a killer.

Alastair remained in his snug little accomadations in hell; the carving knife in his hand. Looking for Dean in every face of the souls strapped to his rack. But, it was a useless effort. No one looked like _him_. No one had eyes like _him_. No one screamed like him or had the endurance like his boy. One soul lasted three years, a great accomplishment, but it soon became apparent that he was no Dean Winchester.

Was he to leave him be? Let him go? Alastair hated to abandon his favorite projects.

_Dean? Can you hear me? Papa's coming..._

* * *

Dean hadn't told everybody everything. There was no need to. He would never admit how badly the demon had assaulted him. How he had made him his bitch and how Dean had begged for it, even if it had been out of fear.

"Where would Alastair go?" Sam wondered aloud.

Dean snorted. "Back to hell, probably." He hoped Sam wouldn't see the coffee mug's slight wobble as it shook in his clammy hand.

The angels had lost their best informant. Uriel had fumed with rage when he realized the demon had escaped.

"He almost killed you, Dean, but he didn't. He could have, but he didn't. Why?"

_To make me suffer more._

He shrugged. "Alastair is a tricky guy." Dean tried to sound nonchalant.

Sam eyed him, but he made no further comment. He knew Sam could see his uneasiness. Damn his intuition. The danger was unspoken. Alastair was on the prowl, and he would return. They may have saved a seal, but others would be broken under his watch.

Dean could still feel it inside him; the killer's instinct Alastair had left behind. The anguish. The emptiness. God, would he feel this hollow his entire life?

Both would never rest. Dean would never rest easy until the son of a bitch was dead, and Alastair wanted the same. Both for different reasons.

He was whole now. Whole and blessed by Castiel's hand. How long would he stay pure?

Castiel. He owed the angel a lot. And now, he had the nerve to lie to him. Lie to Sam.

Oh, life was too complicated now.

Dean hadn't slept again, and he wasn't hungry for breakfast. The scrambled eggs still sat untouched on his plate. Alastair was even ruining his appetite.

He had almost resigned himself to the fact that he might be going back. To hell.

Dean abruptly got up and walked away from the table. Sam stared after him, but Dean kept walking. Once he closed the bathroom door for privacy, his face fell into his hands.

"Where are you, you son of a bitch?"

The faucet dripped. There was no answer.

"Alastair." The name was vinegar on his tongue. "You cowardly prick. How much longer are you going to hide from me?"

Dean knew he was inviting disaster, but he didn't care. He slowly turned around to see no one was standing there before whipping back around to gaze into the mirror. The only reflection he saw was his own.

He was waiting. Waiting for the opportune time. Alastair would only strike on his own terms. Then, he would come to claim his prize.

Dean would be ready. Even if he never slept again, he would be ready. So he kept telling himself.

_Come on, Dean. Pull it together. You have to stay strong. To kill him._

Of course, they had no idea how to kill him. Not even angels could. Dean remembered all too well how easily Alastair had thrown Castiel aside with ease after the angel had attempted to destroy him.

Dean gripped the sink. "I'm going to kill you. Come _get_ me. I'm waiting." There it was. The fire in his voice. He almost felt like himself again.

Suddenly, there was a rush of cold air by his ear. It was as if a ghost had touched his flesh. He swore he could hear his name being called in the distance.

_"Dean..."_

Then, it was gone. Dean released his breath after he realized that he had been holding it. His imagination. It had to have been.

Now, he should return to the kitchen so Sam wouldn't get suspicious.

Besides, he didn't really want to be alone.


	11. Nap

Title: Nap

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #1 Ice

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: T

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 857

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

"Bags under your eyes aren't a good look for you, Dean. You need to get more sleep, dude."

Dean forced himself to smile at Sam, his sweet ignorant brother.

Then, it happened.

"You're not thinking about...Alastair, are you?"

Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Trying not to."

_Just drop it, Sammy..._

Sam went silent.

Alastair now occupied a permanent space in Dean's brain. He was like a video rewinding over and over again; his own personal horror movie.

Alastair was composed of pain. He was nothing but pain. Still to this day, Dean could see the demon covered with slick red blood with a chorus of screams surrounding him; all teeth evenly displayed as the knife dug into his shoulder. Under his eyes, Dean no longer felt human but instead all too weak flesh and a map of labeled organs.

Dean _hated_ him. Words could not express how much he hated the demon who had made him beg and whimper like a puppy.

All of this he couldn't convey to Sam. Even though he'd been through his own personal issues with Azazel, Dean suspected he wouldn't be much help here.

Sam finally spoke. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Now's not a good time."

Sam couldn't understand the guilt. The agony. Emotions that he could never share with another person.

First, he was his father's project. Then, he became Alastair's. Had he ever been his own man? For once in his pathetic existence?

Dean's eyes focused on the ribbon of road as he drove into the rising sun.

* * *

Dean tuned out for the rest of the day. He stopped at the first restaurant he saw and ordered a bacon cheeseburger, steak fries, and a slice of apple pie with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream on top before opting out to sit out on a lonely bench in a nearby park. Sam had discovered a library and would be there for quite a while.

At first, his eyes scanned the park and listened to the birdsong in the afternoon sunlight, but soon, Dean's eyelids grew heavy. He hadn't slept last night, and he was feeling it.

Suddenly, Dean opened his eyes to inky blackness and his mind reeled.

_I...slept until nightfall._

Sam was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had let him sleep. Or what if something happened to him? Dean wouldn't put it past Alastair to abduct him.

He attempted to get up, but found himself restrained by a strong arm.

"Hey, Deano."

Dean's blood went ice cold. He turned to see Alastair sitting there; white eyes glowing as bright as the moon.

"Didn't I promise that I would be back?" Alastair purred. He gazed up at the stars. "What a beautiful night. A night for reunions."

Dean was mute with fear.

Alastair eyes shifted back to Dean. "A perfect night for lovers."

Dean was as frozen as a mouse in the claws of a cat.

"Shy, Dean? Unwilling again? Did you know that's how I like you best?"

Alastair dug his nails in his arm until Dean yelped in pain and could feel the blood trickling down.

"You're not here right now," he gasped. "I'm dreaming."

Alastair nodded. "Possibly. I am in your head after all."

_How did he...?_

This was wrong. Too casual. Alastair, in a public park, after Dean had fallen asleep. Another unlikely event. Something didn't add up.

"It's time to go, Dean. I've waited for you long enough."

Dean was suddenly struggling; digging in his jacket for his gun. Trying to get out of Alastair's death grip.

"Hell has missed you so much Dean. And so have I." Alastair displayed blood-stained teeth. In the fiend's gaze, Dean could see himself being dragged back into the pit.

_I don't want to go!_

Alastair's laughter reverberated around him as Dean pushed, clawed, and fought...

* * *

"Dean? _Dean_! What's wrong?"

Dean realized that he was fighting his brother.

"What time is it?" Dean rubbed his eyes.

"4:16. You've been out here for over three hours, Dean." The question was in Sam's eyes. "What were you dreaming about?"

"Something bad." Dean ran his hand through his hair.

"Something like...hell bad?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Sam blinked. "Okay."

Dean felt remorse, but swallowed it. Damn Sam and his useless questions. Hadn't he already explained it to him?

Had it really been just a nightmare? Or was it just a warning? Dean didn't want to find out.

"So...can we go?"

Dean nodded.

The problem was Dean wanted to stay put; hold onto the present reality between his fingers and not let go. He _feared_ what was down the road in the future.

Dean stopped at a liquor store for a bottle of stout scotch worth at least forty-five dollars; a sum large enough to widen Sam's eyes. It was at least seventy proof, and Dean bought it without remorse. It would do the job.

"That's enough, Dean." Sam snapped at him after filling his fourth shot.

The shot glass banged against the counter.

"I need to _sleep_, Sammy."

He couldn't live the rest of his life this way.


	12. Anticipation

Title: Anticipation

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #2 Delusion

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 880

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Dean didn't dream. That fact alone made it a good morning, but Sam soon made it into a bad morning.

"Sleep well?"

Dean actually smiled. "Yeah."

"Cool."

Then, the tide of conversation turned. "When are we going to talk about it?"

Dean played dumb. "Talk about what?"

"About Alastair. Like when is he going to strike again. Tell me you're not worried. I bet that's all you can think about, isn't it?"

Sam's tone was challenging, and Dean didn't want to argue.

"I'm not worried," Dean lied. "He's not on our doorstep yet."

"You're _deluded_, Dean. I can see that he's still ripping you apart."

"And?" Dean snapped. "Hell happened. I got out. I have to move on."

However, Dean was all too aware that he could go right back. It would all depend on the universe's mercy...if it had any.

Alastair had been almost impossible to capture, but it had been accomplished even though he had unknowingly been bait. But, the question was what they would do with Alastair as soon as he was captured. As far as they knew, he couldn't be killed.

Sometimes, Dean idly wondered if what he was really frightened of wasn't Alastair but he himself. Alastair had carved out the monster. Brought it to the surface. And, somewhere deep inside, he wondered if it could awaken.

Was Alastair really communicating in his dreams? Following? Waiting? Dean couldn't be certain. But, he knew in his heart that Alastair wouldn't stop obsessing over his favorite student until he consumed him.

Sam. His sweet brother. He couldn't abandon him again.

So, he would remained optimistic. Even though he knew demons weren't known for moving on. Alastair repeated over and over again how he was one of the best he ever had in more ways than one.

It just took a second, but in that second, he couldn't stop the images that flooded his mind...

* * *

_"You're adept with your tongue, Dean. Did anyone ever tell you that? Your brother? Your father?"_

_Dean would tell the sick fuck to go to hell. Except that he was already here and his mouth was currently occupied at the moment._

_Dean knew Alastair expected him to swallow, and he did. It was either this or the rack for as Alastair called it to have his "teeth readjusted."_

_Dean suspected that Alastair preferred this punishment in any case._

_"Good boy. Sweet boy."_

_Dean shivered as Alastair's talons scraped against his bare back. He petted him as he would a dog._

_"I suspected that you liked it. I should have thanked your father for making you so obidient."_

_His father. He was doing his dad really proud now. Was he looking down at him from heaven with anguish in his eyes? Disgust?_

_Sometimes, it comforted him to think about his dad watching over him. Or had he been forgotten? Tossed aside? Did Sammy even think about him?_

_Dean barely stifled a sob, but he knew Alastair heard it anyway._

_"Ugh. Don't get weepy again, Dean. What is it about your brother that gets you so...down?"_

_The pun wasn't lost on Dean. He was down all right. As far down as a person could possibly get. On his knees; nose nuzzled in the demon's lap._

_"Come now. Break's over. It's back to work. Just because we have eternity doesn't mean that we can be lazy now, can we?"_

_Sloth was a sin after all._

* * *

"Dean?" Sam's voice jerked him back to the present and away from the unwanted flashback.

"Sorry. I zoned out there."

"You think?" Sam's voice was terse.

"I'm sorry. I have..."

"...Alastair on the brain," Sam finished.

Now, they could finally relate. Dean knew that Ruby was never far behind Sam these days. Dean still did not trust her. He never would. He knew that she would rip into him with glee like all the other demons did in should she have approached hell. All demons were the same.

Sam's powers. Would one day Sam be evil too? Oh, well. Dean had already beaten him to it in any case.

"Maybe you should nap some more."

"No. We have seals to save, Sam."

Alastair wouldn't stop, so neither would Dean. This battle of wills wouldn't end until one of them ended up dead. He would lick his wounds and move on. Just like his father taught him.

Alastair wouldn't defeat him. He _would_ have a new life. However, this optimistic illusion was different from reality. All Dean could do was to be vigilant.

But, if or when he met Alastair again, gazed into the demon's predatory eyes, what would Dean do?

Kill him, of course. He would kill him.

But, why did Dean dread the task so much?

* * *

His boy was like an open book. He could taste Dean's every emotion. Fear. Rage. Guilt. Mostly fear.

Now, Dean didn't know what was real and what was fantasy. Even the trust between him and his beloved brother was waning. Oh, yes. Dean was on his toes, and Alastair wanted to keep him there. Keep him dancing to a tune that he himself had composed.

For the first time, Alastair was actually looking forward to going back topside.

He knew that his baby boy was nearly shivering in anticipation.


	13. Fever

Title: Fever

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #3 Lust

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,000

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Under Dean's cool facade, several cracks were beginning to form under the surface. He was beginning to wonder how much longer he could pretend that nothing was wrong. Instead, Dean tried to take Sam's advice. Go with the flow more. _Relax_. Stay focused and be optimistic. He hadn't told Sam about the dream in the park either. It was after all just a dream, or so he hoped.

However, Ruby was certainly busy; digging her claws deeper and deeper into an infatuated Sam who seemed to be growing more and more helpless to her charms. Dean didn't approve of how close they had became. How much time they spent together.

But, then, could he judge her? He had been more of a fiend than her in hell. She would also be quick to point this out.

There were undeniable storm clouds brewing on the horizon. Something _big_. He was still worried about his brother, but he felt less and less like a savior. He truly loved Sam, but how much longer could he keep him out of the frying pan? Ruby was a danger, and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't even solve his own problems.

Dean turned this over in his brain later as he tried in vain to sleep that night. He laid there tense, moody, and uncomfortably warm as the wind howled mercilessly outside the window and grew warmer and warmer as he lay there. It started with a slight flush on his cheeks until his blood was _boiling_. Soon, he was hot as hell in a matter of minutes.

He groaned and turned over. Was he getting a fever? Was he sick? It was too bad they didn't own a thermometer or any cold medicine at the moment.

The heat built with intensity until he threw off the covers and peeled off his shirt, and he was still _hot_. Dean was about to call for his brother, or the emergency ward, when he felt an undeniable sense of pressure on the mattress as if somone had climbed onto the bed.

"Room for one more?"

The voice was familiar. Dean broke out in a cold sweat. "No..."

"_Yes_. I'm here, son."

Dean would never forgive himself for the whimper that escaped his lips when Alastair fastened his mouth to his neck as he exploited the sensitive spot.

"Ready and wanting? I like that. When did you get to be such a whore, Dean? Oh, wait. I remember. You always were one. From the first day I met you."

Dean opened his eyes and parted his lips. "Gonna kill you," he mumbled. His vocal chords seared with every word.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not just yet. Our dance is not yet finished."

Damn Alastair for making everything sound like they were fucking dating. As if Dean wanted this.

Dean shook his head against the pillow. "This isn't happening. I'm dreaming again."

"Are you?"

Dean swiftly changed topics. "What did you do to me?" he snarled.

Alastair replied with a laugh before Dean felt teeth graze the hollow of his throat. He stiffened as he waited for the inevitable pain when the demon teeth bit down and was horrified to find that not only heat, but lust was coursing through his veins. His body was imflamed.

Dean's vision grew hazy. His mouth was dry.

_Is this a dream...or reality?_

Dean was too afraid to find out. As usual, his muscles were frozen as he waited for Alastair to rip out an artery. Dean could just imagine his blood leaking out on the white cotton; his life flowing away.

"Enough," a gruff voice snaps.

Mercifully, Alastair disappeared. Dean immediately felt cooler like a breeze after a rain. The bedroom felt...blessed.

Relieved, Dean sat up while protectively holding the blanket to his bare chest and spotted Castiel.

"Cas?"

"Hello, Dean. Trouble sleeping?"

Dean was suddenly ashamed. Could Castiel probe for the details of the dream in his head?

"I was dreaming."

"Of?"

Dean knows better than to lie, but he left out most of the other details. "About Alastair. He was...with me."

Cas only stared at him.

"He's making me do this."

"No. Not completely. The human mind is open to suggestion, especially when you are asleep."

"So, I let him in?" Dean was incredulous. He would never let Alastair in.

It seemed as if Castiel was choosing his words carefully. "Subconciously, you're still under his thrall. In such a state, you could easily be tempted."

"Thrall? Like under his spell? His control?" The word was familiar to him. Sammy had said that the word "thrall" indicated slavery or bondage, a fact learned through his many hours of research over the years.

"He's calling for you, Dean. You were his favorite student after all, and Alastair seems to be...possessive. You must resist."

"How? I can't fight him in my dreams. Why doesn't he just attack me man to man?"

_Miserable coward..._

But, did he truly want to face him again?

"Perhaps he wants you to join him willingly without getting his hands dirty. That would derail the angels' plans for you in the future. If you would join Alastair, the demon would have a higher chance of winning. You need to be of use to us, Dean."

Winning? Dean pondered about his role in the apocalypse.

It was a surreal moment as he talked to his angel at 2:32 in the morning with Alastair most likely somewhere eavesdropping. Dean wondered if there would ever be a place he felt truly safe.

"No problem. I'll just stop sleeping," Dean said wryly with far more confidence than he felt.

"You can't. The human body requires rest."

Dean blinked. "That was a joke, Cas."

"Go back to sleep. I'll watch over you." Castiel's tone was oddly soothing.

Obidiently, Dean lay back down and shut his eyes. He didn't feel like arguing, and he knew that it wouldn't do any good.

For once, it was nice to feel protected, even when the feeling never lasted long.


	14. Stranger

Title: Stranger

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #4 Weapons

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,043

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

_Okay, you want to play, Alastair? Let's play._

Dean's gaze swept over the two Bowie knives and was currently involved in sharpening the third. Or, he could use the Colt. It had taken Azazel down after all, so it would be plausible that it could also destroy Alastair.

"What you got there?"

_Crap._

Ruby stood in the doorway; curious eyes peeking over his shoulder.

Dean kept his voice level. "Sharpening my knife, so I can stab your friend."

The name seemed to draw Ruby's face in pain. "Alastair? He's not my friend. Good luck in trying to kill him. He's nearly Lillith status."

"Stronger than Alastair?"

"Definately stronger than me," Ruby responded cryptically.

Then, she was gone.

_Bitch needs to mind her own business._

Alastair needed to die. One way or another. Dean would be in danger until he was in the ground. He couldn't keep letting Castiel babysit him either whenever Alastair decided he wanted to cuddle in his bed. How long would his old master continue to play this shitty game? He couldn't just find another pet to play with, another evil bastard like himself. He supposed that he was a challenge. The only soul to ever escape eternal damnation.

Still, Dean wasn't entirely sure if it was just in his head...

Dean's motions became swifter until the knife was sharp enough to shear paper and would shred flesh just as easily. He was almost ready.

Sometimes, he wondered if he should still be down there. He had made the deal after all. What made him so different from the other wailing damned souls? The rules had been changed just for him. Right. He was needed by the angels. Yet again, he was another pawn for someone else to play their game with.

Would any of this really matter in the end? Were they truly capable of saving the seals and protecting earth?

He was getting tired. It had been a long time since Dean had truly rested. He yawned and rested his head on his arm and promised himself that it would only be for a moment.

Soon, he was fast asleep.

* * *

_Dean walked through the graveyard with a pounding heart. His eyes scanned the trees. The cold mist blanketed the tombstones and wound around his legs. He was looking for someone, but the memory was indistinct._

_"Dean?"_

_He turned his head and his heart leapt into his throat. He was looking at his father dressed in the same leather jacket and rugged stubble._

_"Dad!"_

_John's expression was as solemn as it had been life. "Be careful, son."_

_Before Dean could get out another word, his father's face morphed into his old tormentor's. Dean stepped back in shock._

_"Still miss your daddy? Of course you do. Tigers never change their stripes after all."_

_"Alastair," Dean snarled._

_"You have boring dreams, pet. Graveyards with daddy? There are so many other places you could be."_

_"Get away from me," Dean growled. "You're not welcome in my head."_

_"Your lips say no, but your eyes are still in doubt. You're thinking of me again, and I'm just happy to oblige."_

_The dream shifted and suddenly Dean was tearing across the grass; running for his life with a growing sense of futility._

**_"Boy, I'm here..."_**

_The words echoed in his head._

* * *

Dean opened his eyes with a gasp. He could still smell the dead autumn leaves in his nostrils and feel the cold air stinging his lungs as he ran for his life. Still, Alastair was playing him like a finely tuned violin.

_Clop, clop._

Dean stiffened as his ears registered the footsteps. Was it his nightmare?

Dean turned; dagger in hand.

"Dean! It's me!"

Dean was pointing the knife at his brother.

It slipped from the fingers with a crash. "Sam?" Was it really Sam? Or another trick?

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sam's eyes flashed angrily.

"You startled me."

"Yeah, obviously," Sam sniffed. "You thought I was Alastair, right?"

Dean cringed at the name. "I was dreaming about him. I've been dreaming about him for weeks."

"So? They're dreams. He can't hurt you in a dream. This isn't a horror movie."

"It's not just dreams," said Dean through gritted teeth. "Cas said that he's trying to get a hold on me."

There. The entire truth came pouring out. Was Sam happy now?

Sam's reply was shocked silence.

Dean was almost rambling. "We have to kill him. We have to. I'm going to use the Colt, and shoot him in the fucking head."

"We will, Dean," Sam promised. "We will."

Sam's words sounded hollow; an empty promise.

Later, they floated into their own separate rooms as if nothing had transpired and once again, Dean was engaged in an act he now dreaded: sleeping. After twenty minutes of tossing and turning and hearing the torturous tick of the clock, Dean got up with a groan and rummaged around for jeans. He was going out.

After scrawling a hasty note, Dean was in the driver's seat of the Impala. He needed an alcoholic drink on the rocks-badly. Anything to relax.

Dean ended up in a seedy bar that had seen better days. Hopefully, the place served cheap booze. He needed to clear his head, and the gin should do the trick. The other patrons were in their own separate little worlds, and that was perfectly fine. Dean didn't want to talk to anyone.

The music from the nearby radio lulling him into security, Dean drifted off and barely noticed the newcomer standing at the bar.

"Martini," the older man rasped from under his hood.

A tingle of fear shivered up Dean's spine, but he kept sipping his whiskey. His intuition alerted him, but he didn't want to believe it. Maybe he should get up and quietly leave before it was too late, if it wasn't already too late.

Suddenly, the gentleman swept off his hood to reveal a middle-aged man in business attire. He was vaguely familiar. The way he spoke, the way his mouth moved, the way he moved his long fingers...

Dean felt like sobbing when the man looked over at him and smiled.

"So, what's _your_ story, son?"

Dean almost choked when his eyes filmed over to white.


	15. Trapped

Title: Trapped

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #5 Time

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,021

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

He was fucked. His current gun wasn't nearly powerful to do anything effective against Alastair if he could even draw it. A surprise attack was out of the question. Alastair had chosen the perfect place to reveal himself where he would have the upper hand; out in the open in a public place with all these people milling around.

Dean's world was shattering around him, but he forced himself to speak. "Alastair. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Sharing a drink with an old and dear friend." The demon smirked behind his olive-adorned glass.

"We're not friends," Dean's voice was as seething as steam.

"Coworkers? Lovers? Which one do you prefer?"

"Enemies." Dean ignored the quivering in his hands. "I'll be leaving now. Hopefully, I'm dreaming somewhere and this is another screwed up nightmare."

Alastair seized his hand with bone-crushing force, and Dean gasped in pain as he was forced to witness Alastair's cruel smile of triumph. The cat had caught the mouse.

"You know that I won't disappear this time, son. There's no angel to save you now and unfortunately this is _reality_."

Dean had no winning cards in his hand. Immediately, he stopped struggling and, Alastair released his abused wrist with a smirk on his borrowed face. He glared at his tormentor as if it would do a damned bit of good.

"So...how's life?"

"It was fine. Until you showed up."

Alastair frowned. "That's not very nice, Dean. You've forgotten your manners again. Should I make you remember them?"

Dean remained silent.

"Would you enjoy that?"

Alastair's hand alighted on his own, and Dean swatted it away like a lethal spider.

Alastair's voice was disturbingly calm. "I don't take rejection well, as you well know, but we'll discuss that later."

"Come on. Be a good boy and finish your drink."

Dean forced himself to raise his glass and take a sip. The liquor tasted like acid.

"You know," Alastair drawled, "if we got you back, hell would throw a homecoming party in your honor."

"With balloons and a cake? Just for me?" Dean said in a tone that was far braver than he felt.

"The things I would have done to you for saying that." His former master's eyes twinkled in fond remembrance.

Dean gagged and almost vomited up his liquor. He was in mortal danger, and he wasn't sure if he could slide by, and the last thing he wanted to do was have a drinking contest with Alastair.

"You know, Castiel will be looking for me before morning. I'm important to the angels now too." Dean had never figured out why this was so.

"So I hear. I don't like the attentions they are giving my boy." Alastair's voice was suddenly full of dark malice. And envy.

Dean was already getting lost in the rumble of the demon's voice. It was like a rippling stream, and Dean was getting carried away in its depths to drown. In hell, it had been the only sound...

"Stop talking to me like I'm your student," Dean growled.

"You'll always be my student," Alastair purred. "You passed all your classes with flying colors and graduated; diploma in hand. Your services would be gladly accepted again as job placement." It was a sin how casual he sounded

"No thanks." This time Dean couldn't stop his voice from shaking.

Alastair leaned in for the kill. "You're so cute when you're scared."

Dean's glass sat empty. Of course, _he_ noticed.

"Finished already? Then, I think it's time to get out of here, don't you?"

Dean's fate was sealed for the moment. Besides, he wanted to get away from all these people. They would be safer without him here.

Fear tugging at his heart, Dean got up from the bar stool.

* * *

_Something wasn't right._

Sam cautiously opened his eyes. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut.

Maybe Dean wasn't paranoid. Maybe...

"Dean?" Sam called out into the black. "Dean?"

When he got no response, he thought of another name.

"Castiel? _Cas_!"

* * *

Dean's knees almost buckled when he entered the parking lot. He didn't want to move any further. He could feel the threatening heaviness of Alastair's hand on his shoulder.

"Let's...get away from here."

"Where?"

Dean was slipping back into submissiveness, and he couldn't stop himself. But, he needed to follow Alastair's commands to stay alive. Still, he was ashamed as to how natural they felt.

The demon steered him over to the dark edge of the woods. It was on Dean's mind to run, but where exactly would he run to?

"Don't you have some work to do downstairs?" Dean asked irately, desperately looking for an opening to attack.

"You're more important, Deano," Alastair assured him. "Someone will cover for me." His hand swept over his forehead. Down his arm.

Soon, Dean was burning up again. Castiel said that he had him under his thrall, and Dean was beginning to believe it. Alastair's touch made Dean's blood _boil_. He craved it. Needed it. Especially when his mouth moved over his own. Dean could taste the intensely sweet velvet blackness on his tongue. It had been such a long time since he had felt such pleasure.

Alastair broke away to speak. "No fight in you, hmm? Maybe you just want to make me happy."

Alastair's fingers wound around his windpipe just as they had before in the old warehouse. Dean could feel his breath begin to shorten.

"Shall we continue what we started, boy? Or, do you still think that you can fight me?"

Dean went slack, and mercifully Alastair eased his grip as his tongue then snaked across his throat. The hunter stood there numb almost in a daze as he let the old mentor manhandle him. It was almost as if he was trapped in a dense fog where time stopped.

Suddenly, a flash of white light snapped Dean back to his senses. It disoriented him, and he could feel himself collapsing to the ground away from Alastair's arms. When he looked up again, he saw a scowling Uriel gazing down at him.

"Having fun, are we?"


	16. Unspoken Accusations

Title: Unspoken Accusations

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #6 Sickness

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 930

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

That last dream had taken a lot out of him.

Dean groaned and immediately sensed that something was wrong. He was...exposed. He could feel the breeze on his cheeks and the pebbles poking uncomfortably into his lower back.

He opened his eyes and looked up and recoiled at Uriel's intense glare. The angel definitely wasn't the friendliest being on earth. So. It hadn't been a dream.

"Where's Alastair?"

"Gone," Uriel grunted.

This news wasn't encouraging. "What's the matter. Was he too fast for you?"

"Enough of your mouth!" Uriel roared. "I wasn't the one cavorting with my old flame. I can still smell his stink. And yours. Longing for the old days in hell?"

Dean's attention was stolen by a chirping robin in a nearby pine tree basking in the morning sunlight. He envied its freedom.

"Should I take you back there myself?"

Dean jerked back to reality. "He's stalking me, and I'm not enjoying the attention."

"Then, you must control yourself! We're at war." Uriel's eyes were slits. "I wonder sometimes if you will compromise our mission."

It was Dean's turn to explode. "Kill the bastard then! That's your job. Angels destroy demons."

"Dean?" a familiar voice called.

When he saw Sam and Castiel approaching him, Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, some support.

"Why did you go off on your own?" Castiel asked.

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm thirty, and I wanted a drink. Can you blame me? I'm not going to live in fear."

"But you knew Alastair was out there. You didn't take precautions. You were..."

"Foolish," Uriel finished. "But, perhaps Alastair's old apprentice wasn't using logic last night. Perhaps his mind was elsewhere."

Dean was stunned. When did he become the enemy? Did they think that he and Alastair were playing footsie somewhere? A dinner date?

Castiel took control of the situation. "Then, our top concern is to contain Alastair before he surprises us again."

"So, how do we get him? Bait a trap?" Dean suggested sarcastically. "He stalks me in my _dreams_."

Oops.

Just like that, he had let the cat out of the bag. Dean had never revealed that little tidbit to Sam. Silence descended on the three. A trace of a smile lifted the corner of Uriel's lips as if he didn't expect anything less.

"The panic room?" suggested Sam.

Dean knew he was entering a dangerous situation. The last thing he needed was to be restained somewhere; locked up like an insane criminal. This situation was not his fault.

But, he knew he was vulnerable as long as he was under Alastair's thrall. His bondage. Somewhere deep within, a traumatic bound resided somewhere in his damaged soul.

And, just like that, the memories rushed over him again...

* * *

_It was twenty-eight years, and Dean knew he was getting close. He was losing the battle, and he could see it in Alastair's eyes._

_"We're friends, aren't we, Dean?"_

_Dean looked away. This was a mistake._

Crack.

_Alastair paused for the brief howl of pain that escaped Dean's lips._

_"I mean, I'm the closest thing you have to a friend down here, right? I take the time to get to know you, to understand you, and..."_

Crack._ His pinkie splintered._

_"...all you do is scream."_

_Dean almost says yes. Why was he still clinging to false hope that the heavens would open and that he would be rescued?_

_Alastair leaned in close. He could smell his fetid breath._

_"Now, do you have anything to say to me, Deano?"_

_Dean was like a quivering mass of raw meat both physically and mentally. He whispers the word faintly,"No..."_

_Alastair doesn't look quite disappointed when he raises the knife._

* * *

"He spaced out again," Sam was griping.

"What?" Dean snapped. "I'm _here_." He hadn't gone anywhere.

_Had he?_

"I can watch him, Uriel," Castiel offered.

"Like that's helping, Uriel sniffed. "Alastair and Dean seem to have a history. A history that consumes everything else."

Sam spoke up. "Dean, what _happened_ to you down there?"

Dean stiffened. "I already told you."

_Everything. Everything you can imagine, Sammy._

While the others argued and discussed his future, Dean submerged himself in his thoughts.

_What if I can't fight off his influence? What if I'm too broken?_

The feelings that Dean carried around with him were a constant weight on his shoulders and not of all them were bad. The power. The sin. The lust. Yes, even Dean could admit to himself that he had kneeled at the demon's feet and called him master. Dark feelings that Dean could never divulge. Too ashamed to share.

Castiel seemed to understand. "The past will destroy you. We need you to focus on the future."

At the moment, Dean saw no future. With the apocalypse at his heels, all he saw was a long dusty road that went off a cliff.

All eyes were on Dean. As if Dean were hiding something. What they did expect? A secret alliance? What did really happen to his mind when he was asleep? Was his subconcious really just clay in Alastair's hands? Was he one step ahead of him?

"I need to be alone," he announced suddenly.

Sam stepped forward. "No, we need to stick together."

Dean forced a smile. "It's broad daylight, Sam. I can take care of myself."

Dean walked down the forest path. He was getting hot again and prayed that it was just the morning sunlight.

After all this time, Alastair was still a part of him.

He couldn't help wondering what was going to happen now.


	17. Found

Title: Found

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #7 Gamble

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,045

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

To put it bluntly, Dean was pissed off and growing more pissed off by the day. His decision not to be placed in the panic room hadn't gone over well with his brother. Regardless, he was still being monitered too closely for his liking. He was officially under house arrest and it was quickly becoming a prison. Honestly, he didn't see the point. Alastair could break down the front door if he felt like it and all three would most likely be defenseless against him.

Dean wasn't used to not being trusted.

Uriel's searches came to nothing. Alastair would be found when he wanted to be found, and the fucker was probably laughing at their useless efforts. To add insult to injury, Ruby was being a vindictive bitch.

She casually examined her nails as she spotted Dean. "I hear you and Alastair are an item. Or...were an item downstairs."

"Shut up," Dean snarled as he toyed with the thought of slamming her face into the table.

Ruby shrugged."Sorry. It's just interesting. Most demons don't give a crap about anyone. Wonder what you did to impress hell's own grand executioner?"

Dean's life was quickly becoming a gossip column. Soon, he wouldn't be trusted at all. Was this all part of Alastair's scheme? To weaken his credibility as a hunter? To distance himself from the herd? Well, it was working so far.

Dean was quickly becoming short-tempered and anxious. And _bored_. His hands itched for something to do; clenching and unclenching at his sides.

In the pit, Alastair had said that idle hands were the devil's playthings. The irony wasn't lost on him. Dean had intentionally been kept busy. Then, there had been no time for regrets. Time didn't exist at all when Dean .

_But, it's not about me anymore, is it, Deano? It's you they're watching._

Even his mind taunted him in _that_ voice.

Fatigued, Dean walked into the kitchen and soon wish he hadn't.

_Chop, chop..._

The noise distracted him. He turned his head to see Sam cutting apart hamburger meat on the counter. Dean's attention immediately became fixed on the gleaming knife. How the blood gushed onto the wooden chopping board every time it rose and fell.

Dean couldn't help wondering how Sam would have fared in hell. How well a torturer Sam could have turned into.

He hastily walked away from the sight of the with a darkness boiling in his guts; disgusted at himself and the thoughts in his fractured mind.

Once more, sleep was elusive. He stared at the ceiling and calmly listened to the clock tick until he felt a presence. Dean sat up to see Castiel.

"A penny for your thoughts?" he asked.

Castiel remained silent.

He tried again. "A dollar?"

"You're one of the few lucky souls to have been pulled out of hell. Obviously, there are side effects."

Dean pondered the word "lucky" and wondered if it fit his situation.

"I'm never going to be normal again, am I?" he ventured.

Castiel didn't answer. Dean didn't take that as good news.

He turned away and felt his eyes prickle with tears. When he turned around, Cas was gone. Of course. Abandoned again.

The rage was back and it was gnawing at him like a hellhound. He grit his teeth in anger. The angels just wanted their pawn. Cas didn't care. Just as his father wanted his soldier. He didn't care either. Wasn't Alastair one of the few people who ever truly understood him? Dean's rage had been festering all his life, and Alastair had been the one to let it out. When his eyes had turned black; his soul had followed.

In hell, he had found the perfect place to take out his rage. The righteous man had possessed a righteous rage like no other to Alastair's delight. The torturer had even bragged about his charge to the other hellspawn. Even dad hadn't done that.

Dean had been lost in their little shared world of giving and receiving pain. Down below, he had gladly gave total obidience and devotion to his new master. Now, he was empty as if he had lost a part of himself. Here, he was back in his old skin. Being Dean meant to be vulnerable. Caged. Suspected against. Burdened by responsibility.

He tried to imagine going back to the beginning, to a life without Alastair, and he couldn't. It seemed as if Alastair had always existed somewhere in a dark corner of his mind.

_Sick_. He was sick inside.

He bolted to the bathroom where his emotions came up with his stomach contents. Fumbling with the toilet's handle, Dean lay his head on the procelain bowl. He had to get rid of these feelings somehow.

His body longed for the bed, but he feared going to sleep. He was afraid. Afraid of his own mind. What was he truly capable of? Did a monster still lurk inside him?

It would be so easy to surrender to fear. To hide under the covers and make the world go away. Yet, Alastair would still be out there to haunt him another day.

The decision made, Dean silently padded across the carpet to the front door. He laid his hand on the doorknob and walked into the night without one glance over his shoulder. Sam should be asleep. Castiel...what about Castiel? What if he was on night watch?

Heartbeat thudding in his ears, Dean turned the doorknob and walked into the moonlight. And kept walking.

He wondered how long he should walk as panic laced through him. Should he return? Use the Impala and just drive to a destination that did not exist yet? He happily stolled along towards the highway; his motivations unclear.

Dean felt giddy yet suicidal. He knew that he was in a dangerous mindset right now, but he didn't care. He was ready for anything, anything for this burden to disappear. Maybe nothing would happen tonight. Maybe he would go back with the excuse that he simply wanted a walk under the stars. Maybe...

Suddenly, there was an amused chuckle at his ear. As expected, he had been found.

"I knew my boy would be looking for me. You never disappoint me, Dean. Never."

Dean closed his eyes in surrender.


	18. Traitor

Title: Traitor

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #8 Explosion

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 884

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

A/N: Thanks to all who have read and reviewed this fic.

* * *

Time had stopped as Dean stared into white eyes. It was over.

"A prefect night for lovers. A beautiful night for reunions," Alastair crooned in a saccarine voice. He almost sounded...human.

The same words. The same words from his dream so many weeks ago on that park bench. Spoken under the same full moon. It was a perfect paint stroke on the canvas of Destiny. As if everything was meant to be. Dean wondered if he'd chosen the correct path before his thoughts were halted by a touch.

"So tormented." Alastair ran a finger down his cheek. "I like that," he whispered.

Dean lost his balance and fell to his knees like a subject in front of his king. He tried to speak, but the sound gurgled and died in his throat like a drowning man.

"Pathetic. Once such a great being now reduced to this." Dean could feel his Alastair's disappointment aura ooze from every pore at his glowered down at his wayward creation. "You know I can make it all better. All you have to do is ask, love."

Dean finally found his voice. "No." It was so tempting to say the opposite.

Cautiously, he looked up at his tormentor. Alastair was in another meatsuit. His best one yet. Moonlight glinted off his teeth. It was a beautiful night to die after all.

"What's the matter? Haven't I been encouraging you enough?"

Dean opened his mouth to protest, to say _something_, but no words would come out.

"Oh, Dean, you're so indecisive. It's really one of your worst personality flaws. I never know if you're going to resist or pack it in. You're one of the few who actually ever suceeded in making me wait, boy. Congratulations."

Master and student's eyes held each other. He watched in as Alastair held out his hand. Dean stared at it. He knew. He knew what Alastair was offering.

"Take my hand, and all will be forgiven. Daddy will take care of you. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Dean stared at the open palm as if it was a coiled cobra. He shouldn't. There would be no going back. Before he could restrain himself, he felt his arm move upwards. His fingers closed around Alastair's own.

_Yes._

The beast inside him was stirring. Exploring. Suddenly, it roared to life with razor claws. He gasped as some malevolent force blew through him like a hurricane. Alastair grinned in mad delight. The offer had been accepted.

"I know how hard that was for you."

"I shouldn't have." Dean hung his head in humiliation. In weakness. Such a familiar feeling.

"You shouldn't have," Alastair echoed. "But, you chose to. You wanted this."

He waited. Waited for the ground to swallow him whole in the same manner Hades had abducted Persephone. But, the moment didn't come. Dean stayed right where he was until he was dragged to his feet.

"Now, you're going to do a little job for me." Alastair adjusted Dean's collar before possessively ruffling his hair.

Dean was breathing hard. It was useless for him to refuse. He didn't argue. Instead, he listened intently like a dog waiting for its owner's instruction.

"Stay here and be my eyes and ears. We'll consider it...a loyalty test. Our little secret."

He whimpered as hungry hands brush his cheeks. Once more, he closed his eyes to block everything out. When he opens them again, he finds Alastair had mercifully vanished leaving him to his anguish.

Suddenly, Dean realized he wasn't being weighed down by grief. He stood straighter in the moonlight and felt more in control of himself for the first time in months. He felt...strong. It was as if a wound on his soul had scabbed over. Finally.

Then, a purely instinctual part of his mind he never knew he possessed took over. _Home_. Yes, he needed to go home before he was discovered missing. That would be unfortunate.

So, he began walking under the pure white moonlight that made the world glow. It was so bright that it washed out the stars. Dean was elated at the prospect at no more pain. He felt like laughing. No more nightmares. No more terrors. No more guilt. He was finally _free_.

_You're not free. You're a slave. A traitor. A traitor to your own family._

The voice was true and honest and wailed from the depths of his soul. This was true, but he wasn't denying who he was anymore. Who he had been carved and molded into was now his real face.

_This isn't who you are!_

He grimaced in mental pain as a newfound conflict between two states of being tore each other apart. Tore himself apart. There was an invader in Dean's soul, and he wasn't sure which voice was really his own. In the kaleidoscope of emotion beginning to stir inside him, he felt caught in a tidal wave. However, no much he protested, his path had been set, and he was at the mercy of the current.

Dean kept walking. One foot in front of the other. Even when he was so disconnected that he couldn't even feel the ground. Somehow, Dean returned to the front door with no memory of actually getting there.

He had a role to play in this affair after all.


	19. Disconnection

Title: Disconnection

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #9 Wisdom

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,040

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Warnings: Possible trigger for self-injury. Alcohol usage.

* * *

He arrived shortly before sunrise. Carefully, Dean slid the key into the lock and swung open the door. Feeling like a disobedient teenager, Dean entered on his tip toes and checked every darkened corner for activity. All was silent. No one was around to scold him or pelt him with questions. In fact, it was almost suspicious.

_So. No one truly does care._

Pain seized his heart before the emotion died away like wisps of smoke. He was only a ghost anyway; a specter just passing through before he was put into the ground once more. The worst torture Alastair could devise was sending him back to live _here_. However, Alastair didn't elaborate on what his mission was or what he was supposed to accomplish.

To put it bluntly, all things considered, Dean felt beyond fucked up. He walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer and would enjoy the simple pleasure while he could. There was no water in hell after all. Just blood. He cracked it open, sat on the couch, and watched the room brighten in what could be his final sunrise. He was a dead man walking, and he knew it. Yet, he didn't feel upset. Perhaps he had already accepted his fate. Rather calmly, Dean sipped from the can until Sam arrived.

"Oh. You're up already."

"Yeah." Dean was up. He had been up all night.

"So, how did you sleep?" Sam asked.

The lie comes too easily to Dean's lips. "I slept fine, Sammy."

His poor brother. His poor naive brother. So easy to manipulate by anyone he trusted.

"That's...good."

Dean was beginning to grow apprehensive at his brother's hesitation. "It is." He put some effort into sounding firm.

It was so pathetically easy to pretend. In some unworthy crack of his mind, he wondered why he didn't do it before. It would have made his life so much easier.

Dean drank more beer to cover the uneasy silence. It was easy to see that Sam thought something was wrong.

"By the way, I told Bobby about you. He's going to see if he can find something."

The news was like a fist. Dean somehow swallowed the foamy beverage without choking.

"Are you okay with that?" Sam was still watching him. Gauging him.

Dean shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?" He was still lying like the condemned man he was. Nothing he said would matter.

He would be out of his brother's hair soon enough. At any rate, Dean doubted that Bobby could help him. Now, if he could fool Cas, it would be a miracle.

Dean was relieved when Sam wandered into the kitchen in a search for food and headed into the bathroom where he could be alone. He needed to be alone. Just for a moment.

The first thing he saw when he entered the bathroom was his reflection in the mirror. He looked into a sleep deprived face and guilty eyes where deep inside the monster Alastair had awakened lurked. He could glimpse the defeat. The weakness. The anguish. He looked terrible. No wonder Sam was on alert.

Dean balled his hand into a fist. He _hated_ the man in the mirror. A burst of dark malice was bubbling to the surface, and he couldn't hold the flood of emotion back anymore. Before he could stop himself, he punched the mirror and watched his reflection fracture as the mirror cracked under the impact. He gasped as agony lanced through his knuckles. Broken shards of glass were falling through space and now littered the sink. Maybe the fragments of his soul could join them. Somewhere, he was sure Alastair was laughing at him. Pleased that he had gotten a reaction.

"Dean?" Sam called. "Dean!"

The crash sent Sam running into the bathroom. In the doorway, he gawked at the blood. At the destroyed mirror. In spite of everything, Dean smiled sheepishly.

"I think you should go to the panic room, Dean," Sam said in a rush. "Just for a sanity check."

"I lost my temper."

"Obviously," Sam glowered.

Both brothers stared at one another until Sam was the one who looked away.

"Maybe Cas can heal it. Should I call him?"

"No. I'm fine." Blood was starting to drip on the linoleum. Dean paid it no mind.

Sam blinked. "No. You're not. Here, I'll help."

Sam then devoted the next half an hour hour of picking the shards of glass out of his flesh. Dean hissed at the pain, but eventually the sensation grew more...pleasant. Familiar. As the minutes wore on, he was beginning to zone out and fade away under Sam's ministrations. If only he could float away; float away to a place where he couldn't exist anymore. Dean's consciousness felt like it lay somewhere between death and life. Fantasy and reality. Certainly not here beside his brother, or even in his own body. It was as if he was merely a traveling observer.

_What had Alastair _done_ to him?_

Sam's voice broke into his trance. "They're not as deep as I thought. You'll be fine."

Dean snapped back to the present. "You should have entered medical instead of law," Dean commented out of the blue.

_Where had the sarcasm come from?_

Sam made no reply. That twinge of nervousness was back in Dean's gut. Had he said something wrong? What was wrong with him? It was as if something else was controlling his words. His perceptions. If only he could grasp it...

"What's with all the secrecy?" a familiar voice asked.

Dean thought that he could sense a problem approaching. All this time, he had been fearing Castiel when he should have been concerned about _her_.

Sam was caught off guard. "Ah...Dean...cut his hand. I'm patching it up."

"Oh." Dean could see that the demoness was still hungry for details.

Dean wondered if they had spent the night together. It made him feel a little less guilty about his _own_ encounter. How their father would love to see them now. His two sons enamored with demons. But, one demon had been his father's undoing. Azazel. It was all a part of the family curse.

Ruby's gaze fell on him, and Dean watched in horror as her eyes widened ever so slightly.

_She knew._


	20. Foreboding

Title: Foreboding

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #10 Overdose

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 880

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

The tension in the air finally broke like a thunder clap. "Problem, Ruby?" Dean snapped.

Heat entered her eyes. "Why, no. Are you making one, Dean?"

Sam gawked as the animosity between them built in intensity. His mouth opened in confusion.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Dean's voice was a hiss.

Dean was on his guard; his insides tied up in knots. He was determined that no secrets would get out. Eventually, his problem stalked away, and Dean released his breath. The danger had been averted. Hopefully.

"Are you always this agressive?" Sam demanded. "Wait, dumb question."

"I don't trust her, Sam." Dean followed the old script; his true thoughts far away.

The older Winchester could swear he could feel something itching below his skin. It was as if something he wanted to keep hidden was burrowing deeper. At the moment, he couldn't decide if this was good or bad.

"I know," Sam replied curtly.

Both lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Sam correctly interpreted this as a signal to back off.

_Is my own brother afraid of me?_

"There. I'm done. Do you need anything else?" It sounded as if Sam was holding back some unknown emotion.

_I need an escape._

Dean swallowed a lump in his own throat. "No."

Sam seemed reluctant to leave Dean alone and loitered around longer than neccessary before mercifully leaving him in peace. Dean immediately closed and locked the bathroom door for privacy. He knew that he was dirty from walking for miles when he had sought his own personal destruction. This warranted a shower at the very least.

He managed to find the strength in his shaking hands to turn the knob of the shower, peel his clothes off, and drew back the cheap plastic shower curtain to hide his battered presence. Now, it was just him, a bar of soap, and a curtain of water. His own little world.

Dean knew that he was in trouble, and it was deep. He began breathing hard as panic exploded in his chest. Mechanically, he lathered up enough soapy bubbles that would wash away the grime even when he knew that he could never scrub hard enough to remove the true source of the filth. He could only purify what was on the surface not what was within.

Feeling his the entirety of his misery uncurl, he slowly let himself lose it as the scalding tears leak out of his eyes. They merged with the water and flowed down with the shower drain. Lost in his emotional storm, he was unprepared for what happened next.

"Shh..."

He was no longer alone. Of course.

Suddenly, Dean could feel two arms slide around his middle as deadly as serpents. He bucked and jerked in surprise, but the arms held him fast. Uselessly, he shuddered in comprehension. So. He wouldn't be getting much peace before he was thrown back downstairs. His skin crawled and his heart turned over when he heard that knowing chuckle. Alastair purposefully leaned in close so that Dean could smell his breath. There was a sudden whiff of sulfur and burning ash; the smell of his fate.

"The things I'm going to do to you when I get you home," the demon whispered.

All sound died. Dean couldn't even hear the rushing water anymore. It was a moment frozen in time as his heartbeat thudded in his ears. Dean closed his eyes. It seemed fitting to do. Would it finally all be over? Was he going to die right here? How foolish he had been. Now, he was going to pay the ultimate price. He had been given second chance, and he fucked it all up. Hardly surprising.

He waited, but nothing happened. Dean whipped his head around to see that no one stood behind him. He was alone once more. So, Alastair had been a trick of his mind. A hallucination, or a premonition, or whatever.

He didn't know what to do beyond the obvious. Alastair must be killed. Not that there was any known way to accomplish this.

Dean forced himself to stay under the water to finish washing his hair. He was trembling by the time he left the shower to get dressed. While combing his hair, he inspected his appearance to see how other people viewed him and saw why they were concerned. He looked haunted. Pitiful. Dark circles under his eyes marred his flesh from lack of sleep. A shadow of his former self.

But, Alastair had always called him pretty. That was part of the problem. He had been too pretty...

The sudden pounding on the door startled him out of his trance. "Are you okay? It's been over an hour." Sam's presence was almost welcome.

"I'm fine."

He wasn't. Especially when he looked back at the mirror and caught sight his reflection in the broken glass. He had transformed or rather his reflection had. Dean's lips were now set in a cruel devilish smirk with eyes dark as onyx. It was truly terrifying as he stared into the eyes of his former self.

With a strangled cry, Dean finally looked away from the black-eyed monstrosity. He had to get out of this bathroom. _Now_.


	21. Drawing Attention

Title: Drawing Attention

_Author:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #11 Faith

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,214

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

The look of horror on Sam's face was expected when he emerged from the bathroom.

"Dean, you look _terrible_."

So much for any encouragement from his brother. "I didn't sleep well."

Sam's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "But, you just said you slept fine."

There. Sam had finally caught him in a lie. In spite of how much his brother cared about him, he was beginning to grow irritated under his brother's constant criticism. It was painful to bear considering what was in store for him in the future.

"I have other things on my mind." Dean tried to keep his voice even and miraculously succeeded.

Sam nodded, and Dean walked around him. He was in no mood for this now.

"Stay positive. We'll find something," Sam called after him.

Dean digested this. All right. Maybe Bobby _really_ would find something. But, no matter what happened, Dean wouldn't go down without a fight. He owed himself that much. Even if his faith was in short supply.

Dean steeled himself as he shrugged back into his leather jacket and walked into the next room where he immediately saw the person he really didn't want to see: Ruby. It was as if she was waiting for him. She was casually leaning up against the wall; her stare as confrontational as usual. And, it looked like she had something on her mind. It dawned on him to turn away, but instead he intentionally approached her. Screw it. He wasn't the outsider here.

"You _should_ be afraid, Dean." Ruby didn't clarify what she meant, but she didn't need to.

And, Dean _was_ afraid. So afraid...

His tone was bitter acid. "So what? Are you going to tell Sam?"

The little bitch would. He knew it.

"It doesn't concern me." She casually tucked her fingers in the loopholes of her jeans and averted his gaze. "My question is why? You got out. Why would you want to put yourself back in the oven again?"

It was bad when a demon questioning his motivations, even though he couldn't answer the question himself. And if he didn't understand it, he wasn't going to make her understand either.

Dean decided to swallow his pride. She could be his only chance. "Is...there anything I can do?"

Ruby's face remained sober as Dean recieved the answer he had been dreading. "Not much. But, stranger things have happened."

Ruby's nonchalance irritated him, but what did she care for him? Also, she was a native of hell herself. He wanted very badly to hit her, to take out the frustation that was building inside him, but he knew that wouldn't go over well. For anyone.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Sam entered the room, and Dean noticed that Sam was on his guard. Even Dean knew the oddity of the both of them standing in the same vicinty. Willingly.

"Where we are going to eat breakfast," Ruby covered smoothly. "Right, Dean?"

Dean eyed her, but didn't correct her. Deception was second nature to Ruby after all. It's not as if he wanted to share what they were really talking about.

Dean soon found himself in a booth with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He didn't have much of an appetite, but could not protest thanks to Ruby's interference. He was already starting to yawn thanks to being up all night. Dead to the world in more ways than one, he had no other option but to listen to Sam and Ruby...chat.

It didn't take long for Dean to space out. Suddenly, there was a clink as the elderly waitress set steaming pancakes in front of him. When Dean's order arrrived, Dean's forehead was brushing the tabletop. He wanted so badly just to sleep.

"Dean, get your nose out of the maple syrup." Sam scolded.

Dean didn't laugh at his brother's comment and watched as Sam took a bite of his blueberry pancakes and chewed them as if they were broken glass. Ruby turned her eyes to her omelette. Dean decided to inspect his own plate. The fluffy golden pancakes were topped with whipped cream and slices of ripe crimson strawberries. A perfect plate of pancakes and he couldn't even enjoy them. Idly, Dean began to play with his food; swirling the red juice from the strawberries into the whipped cream. He watched white turn pink. The strawberries reminded him of blood.

Soon, the sound of the fork scraping against the plate was beginning to draw attention from the other customers.

Ruby looked up. "Don't play with your food. Be a good boy and eat, Dean."

_"Yes. Be a good boy, Dean..."_

Her words triggered the memory that lurked below the surface...

* * *

___Dean felt a hand on his shoulder. Now, He was beginning to tremble. Alastair's touch was often accompanied by pain._

_"Don't be too hard on yourself. You're getting better." Alastair's breath ghosted his ear. "I promise. I wouldn't lie to you."_

_Alastair's encouragment was a relief. Slowly, Dean let himself ease. _

_Two years ago, he endured Alastair shredding his flesh apart not to become one of the monsters he was, and now here Dean was tearing out the last shreds of his humanity for some sort of promotion. It was no different than executives stepping over each other to climb up the corporate ladder._

_Dean disliked being alone here in the pit. It was terrifying in hell with only its fiends for company. Out of all the fiends, he had one friend. Dean now had one goal: to make him happy. Fucking up wasn't tolerated here. Without Alastair, he felt empty. He was vulnearable. He wanted to feel his touch. Hear his voice. Follow his instructions. Their relationship revolved around one simple equation. Alastair wanted a perfect student, and Dean wanted to become it. Dean needed him as much as Alastair wanted him. They were obsessed with each other and all the denizens in hell knew it. _

_Dean wondered what had broken inside him so long time ago. What inner weakness or flaw Alastair had exploited. Or, was he simply this weak all along?_

_For the sake of normalcy, it helped Dean to think that Alastair was his employer. For eternity._

_The soul below him gurgled something, but Dean couldn't make out the words. His blade was still hovering over him; always ready to be used._

_"Come on. Do something...really special. Original. I really want to know what sort of man you are. Inside and out."_

_Alastair tounged the contour of his ear. Dean jumped and continued working on the poor bastard. Alastair rarely had to repeat himself twice._

_Dean would make him happy. _

_Another two years, and even Dean was starting to enjoy it._

* * *

"Uh, Dean?"

He was back at the restaurant again blinking at his brother and the demoness. Hell had disappeared.

"So, he's returned to real life." Ruby sounded amused.

Why did he keep doing that? Where did his mind go? Now, he was attracting stares by people that should mind their own damned business. Dean shriveled into his seat. He needed to get away.

"I'll be right back."

Dean could feel several pairs of eyes burning into him as he got up and walked towards the bathroom.

This was not going to be a good day.


	22. Old Habits

Title: Old Habits

_Author:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Set + Theme: Set 2 + #12 Fling

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,133

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

The bathroom was thankfully empty. Dean didn't want anyone to see him in this state as he would most likely be regarded as dangerous. Even he would admit himself that he was a mess.

Dean ran a shaking hand through his hair; desperately searching for his composure. He was now reduced to a quivering mass of needles. He knew he had to get a grip, but it was as if his mind was to several different stations at once as he rode his wave of anxiety.

"Do you think this is funny, Alastair?" he whispered hoarsely as he bent over the sink for support.

The faucet dripped in answer. There was no other sound except for the ventilation fan.

Dean was in _deep_, and it was his fault. Undeniably it was his fault. It usually ended up being his fault.

_It's your fault, Dean. You were supposed to be responsible..._

His mind still echoed the words of his father. Maybe none of this would have happened if he had just stuck to his original plan to drink alcohol until he became drowsy enough to fall asleep.

Some cold water was what he needed. He winced as pain lanced through his wounded hand when he turned on the faucet. He wouldn't be breaking any more mirrors in the near future. As Dean splashed some on his face, his eyes settled on the mildewed bathroom tiles. Dean instinctively began memorizing the interlocking of squares to stay calm. He took a deep breath.

Suddenly, there was a feeling of imminent danger. Something wrong. He involunatarily jerked his head up to see Alastair reflected in the mirror. Uncontrollable whimpering escaped his lips before he cried out in fear. He gawked at the bloodcurdling sight until there were arms were pulling at him. Fearing that now was the moment, Dean wildly thrashed and struggle against the the executioner, _his_ executioner.

"Dude, chill! It's me."

Dean opened his eyes. Sam. It was only Sam.

"Are you all right? What happened in here?"

Dean mutely shook his head and looked over his shoulder. Alastair had vanished. Of course.

The three didn't stay for very long. Sam forced him to eat a few mouthfuls of pancakes before hastily exiting. The cashier and manager didn't seem sad to see them go and eyed Dean warily as they walked out to the parking lot. Sam offered to drive, a rare event, and Dean bristled. Obviously, Sam thought him incapable of driving. Trying to remain calm, Dean got in and turned on the radio. Hopefully, some music would cheer him up.

"_I'm living for giving the devil his due, and I'm burning, burning, burning for you..._"

Dean paled at the lyrics. He had listened to the Blue Oyster Cult song over a hundred times in his life, but he frantically turned the dial to some garbage pop song. The lyrics had hit too close to home. It had been almost...too eerie of a coincidence.

"Keep it there," Ruby piped up in the backseat. "I like this one."

Dean sighed as he pulled his hand back. Ruby was still a pain in the ass.

The three rode along in silence, and Dean felt like he was suffocating in the tense atmosphere.

Suddenly, Sam peered over at him. "Aren't you going to say anything, Dean?"

There it was. The cage that he was forced to hide behind. The suspicion.

"I've got a lot on my mind."

"Why don't you say what's on your mind, Dean?" Ruby chimed in.

_Great. Her too._

Dean clutched his injured hand and kept looking out the window into the great beyond. He couldn't keep it a secret forever. Or...could he?

How, he would miss the sun. His vision became misty as he contemplated what awaited him...

"Is there something I should know, Dean?"

He couldn't even look at his brother's face. The guilt was overflowing.

"Sam..."

"It's about Alastair, isn't it?"

"I told you about that," Dean snarled.

"You haven't told me everything. Like what did you see in the mirror?"

"A bad reflection," he replied vaguely while feeling like shit inside.

"You're not helping, Dean."

Dean continued looking out the window. His throat felt raw. When he closed his eyes, the sun seared his eyelids scarlet. Couldn't anyone give him some peace?

The Impala slowed and drifted to the side in the road where it came to a stop.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on Dean."

Where to start? Dean kept silent in the passenger seat with his gaze averted. He didn't want to spend his last few moments on earth like this; fighting with the only person who gave a damn about him. Sam was waiting, but Dean couldn't open his mouth to speak. He was on the verge of getting out of the car and hitchhiking, but then there would be a chance of letting himself be found. He wasn't ready for that encounter yet.

"Fine. Keep your secrets." Sam viciously jammed the key in the ignition.

The car was silent until Sam slammed the car door. Ruby followed. Not a word was spoken. He could feel the disdain. The dispproval. He was now officially on the outs with everyone he lived with. Dean exited the car and sat down into the dirt; the dirt that should be covering his grave. He pondered what to do next. The least he could was say goodbye. if giving up was still an option.

He stayed to listen to the birds sing. He should remember how it felt to be alive.

After twenty minutes, he went inside, Sam was on his laptop, and Ruby was watching television. Dean could already feel the chill in the air.

His tongue was thick in his mouth. "Hey."

Sam didn't even look up. "Hey."

Deflated, Dean moseyed into the kitchen. He knew that he wasn't liked at the moment. It as if it was all coming to an end. The world was ending. His world. Dean walked past a stray knife on the counter and stopped. Cautiously, he approached it. He could see his reflection reflected in the surface. Uncontrollably, his fingers began twitching again.

_"The knife gives you power. Use it or have it taken from you."_

Dean wasn't in hell anymore, and he wasn't a demon. He was a human being once more. He had no reason to pick the knife up. His stomach growled in discomfort, and he wanted to go to sleep. He wanted the fear to go away. He wanted so many things. Above all else, he wanted this nightmare to be over.

_"Take it, Dean."_

Alastair's voice was still in his head. He sobbed. Somewhere, he was still watching.

_"Take it. Show me what's underneath your skin. I want to see my boy again..."_


	23. Surfacing Urges

Title: Surfacing Urges

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 973

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Dean left the kitchen in record time. Hopefully, he left Alastair's voice behind in the kitchen. The demon was haunting him, and Dean was getting worried. He couldn't live with Alastair inside his head.

He walked into the living room found that Sam was looking at his laptop while Ruby was still focused on her TV show. He ignored her and focused on Sam. What was he looking for? Information about him?

_See? They don't care about you, Dean. Only I do. Only I can._

Dean restrained the urge to scream.

"Dean?" Sam had finally noticed him standing there. "Did you want something?"

Suddenly, he had the intense desire to pick up that knife in the kitchen and stab it into Sam. _He_ was the whole reason he was in this mess. Dean would start with the eyes. Those beautiful inquisitive eyes...

"Dean?"

A smile was playing across Dean's lips, and he couldn't control it. For lack of a better term, he felt possessed. All of sudden, he clutched his stomach as pain lanced through it. Something was wrong. It felt like something was fighting its way out of his very flesh.

"Dean? What's happening?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted.

So many emotions were swirling through him. The scales were swinging violently back and forth; one threatening to tip the other. The darkness against his light.

"Dean?"

"Sam, stay away." Ruby was on her feet.

Dean felt a wave of vertigo come over him. What was happening? Why was Ruby so concerned?

He stumbled across the room and sat down on the vacated sofa.

"You look like you just swallowed a bug," Sam commented.

Dean could barely keep his eyes open. Against his better judgment, he knew what he had to do. "I'm going to bed," he announced abruptly.

"But, it's ten in the morning."

Dean glared at the invading sunlight. "I didn't sleep much last night. I'm going to take a nap."

He felt stares from both Sam and Ruby drilling into his back until he left the room. The bedroom door clicked behind him. Hopefully, Alastair wouldn't attack in broad daylight. He would be safe. He eyed the bed. He didn't want to do this, but he had to. Feeling like he was gambling with his very life, Dean slipped under the sheets and closed his eyes.

He thought about praying before he drifted soundly asleep.

* * *

_Dean woke up to chains encircling his wrists. He stiffened as a hand stroked his hair. "It's painful, but I'll swear you'll feel better afterwards."_

_"You sonofabitch."_

_"It's okay, kitten. I'm here." Alastair cooed. "I'll never leave you. You don't have to be concerned anymore."_

_A knife whispered against Dean's flesh; tracing along his sternum and up his throat._

_"Bastard. Get out of my head." Dean was surprised to find he had control of his thoughts. It as if he was on the verge of waking and sleeping._

_In answer, his old master scraped the knife across on his abdomen. Dean hissed in pain._

_"Manners, my boy. Your lifestyle is atrocious, you know. Alcoholism and insomnia? You must miss me."_

_Dean turned his face. It was a dream. That's all._

_"The damage I've done to you will always remain. It will remain in your soul."_

_"I'll get away. I'll kill you," Dean promised._

_"But, how will you live? __You were never as strong as me, Dean. That's why you sought me in the first place. Now, do you want more foreplay or do you just want to cut to the chase?"_

_Alastair pressed that knife down harder until his blood flowed. Dean __opened his mouth to cry out, but the demon claimed his lips in a savage carnal kiss._

_Dean couldn't even remember if he fought._

* * *

Dean woke with the scream burning up his throat with Sam standing over him. Exhausted, he fell back into the pillow. This scenario was repeating itself too many times.

"Tell me how I can help."

"You can't help," Dean groaned. "It was just another nightmare."

"Dean...have you...seen Alastair recently?"

Dean's pulse was starting to race. "Of course not," he lied.

Sam crossed his arms; an incredulous expression on his face.

"Did you find out anything from Bobby?" Dean changed the subject.

Sam appeared deflated. "No. He wasn't home, but I have been researching on my own."

"Such great news." Dean pulled his blanket up higher.

"To be honest, you've been a little helpless, bro. You haven't been this way since..."

Last year. When Dean was going to hell.

"You could act more interested," Sam continued. "You're in danger, and you seem to be avoiding it."

"You could act less judgmental."

A shadow flickered in Sam's eyes. Was it guilt? "We never keep secrets from each other."

"No. We don't." Dean replied challengingly.

Sam was pissing him off. Suddenly, he had another urge to attack his brother. Anything to make his stop talking.

_Where were these thoughts coming from?_

The world shimmered in a haze before Dean's eyes. His vision was changing...something inside of him was changing.

_Is it hard keeping your balance?_

The sudden question made him gasp. It was as if Alastair was standing by his bedside. Desperately, Dean struggled to compose himself in front of Sam. Frantically, he attempted to analyze himself as his very sensations and perception were melting away like snowflakes falling to earth. He was simply...losing touch.

"I think you're having anxiety attacks," Sam said out of the blue.

Dean knew that Sam spoke from personal experience. High school had been rough. Except that Dean wasn't having anxiety attacks. He knew that he wasn't.

"Yeah. Whatever you say," Dean whispered.

Dean didn't tell Sam about the voices or the rages at that moment. He couldn't tell Sam then.

It turned out to be one of the stupidest things he could have done...


	24. Soul Bond

Title: Soul Bond

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,064

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

"Yeah, Bobby. He's getting worse." Sam stopped talking. "Now, he's having nightmares. Bad nightmares. He wakes up _screaming_." A pause. "It _is_ serious. It's not just nerves. I think there's something Dean isn't telling me..."

Dean sighed. He was the asshole. Again. All because he wanted to spare his brother his problems. He hoped that Bobby find something; he was tired of cowering in the corner. More than anything, Dean wanted to hunt the sonofabitch down and kill him personally. It would make this clusterfuck of problems go away.

Dean frowned at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Sam had made it for him before taking another bite. His brother had even chopped up a banana in it. Dean hated fruit, but food was food. He knew that he should appreciate the gesture. Soon, Sam would boil milk and bottlefeed him. But, for the moment, Dean was steering clear of the kitchen. In his state of mind, he couldn't be around sharp objects. Dean was aware of what a sad and sorry excuse for a hunter he was now.

"I can't make him tell me. He's not even acting like Dean."

Dean craned his neck to listen better to his brother's phone conversation. He stopped chewing.

"No. That's impossible." There was a pause that stretched on forever. "Okay. Call me when if you find something."

Dean clenched his fingers into the sofa. He was beginning to feel like a patient. Was this part of Alastair's plan? To sap him of his strength? What the hell had Alastair done to him?

Sam reappeared. "How are you feeling?"

"All right."

"Can't you be a little more specific?"

Dean didn't answer. He was supposed to be the big brother, but they had somehow managed to switch roles. Dean couldn't help feeling ashamed that he had turned into such a pathetic mess.

Sam shook his head as if he didn't expect anything else. "We'll fix this, Dean. You don't have to worry."

Normally, _he_ was the one who fixed things, but kept his mouth closed and mechanically began chewing again. At least eating a sandwich was something he could accomplish.

When Dean looked up again, he saw Sam was putting on his denim jacket. "I have to go out. Do you want to come with me?"

Dean swallowed with difficulty. "Go out for what?"

"Food. We're out."

Ruby. No surprise there. The girl, or demoness rather, ate everything. Thank God she had left for some mysterious location. The prospect at being alone shouldn't bother Dean, but it did. Yet, he didn't want a repeat of the diner.

"I'll be right back, okay? I'll try to be fast."

"Fine."

The door closed, and Dean was left behind.

After a few minutes, the boredom began to set in. He needed something to distract his mind. Leaning forward, he seized the remote control. As soon as he turned on the television, Dean was immediately presented with a man hanging by his wrists in manacles. He cringed as he screamed. The scene encroached on familar territory, and Dean automatically switched the channel to see a vampire sinking his fangs into an unprotected throat. His stomach churned at the sight of the blood before he flipped to yet another channel.

Channel after channel, he was greeted by similar violent scenarios. He was about to fling the remote control against the wall until he found a cooking show. He relaxed and lowered the remote control and tried to concentrate on expert hands cutting a zucchini. It seemed innocent enough. However, after watching the knife slice through the vegetable and bounce off the cutting board, Dean's fingers began to tingle. It was a nice knife. Definitely capable of cutting more things than vegetables.

In desperation, he turned the TV off. What was wrong with his brain? Was it all just a coincidence? Or was it something more? On edge, he looked at the clock. Sam had been gone eight minutes.

He sighed and took in the room. There were no dangers here. No mirrors to catch a grotesque reflection here. No knives. The door was locked. Dean could handle this. What could Sam do anyway if he was around if Alastair decided to attack? He would just get hurt.

However, as the sun began to lower, Dean grew more apprehensive. Night was approaching too quickly. It was like an intruder scraping at the window; waiting to rip his throat out. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean checked for his gun on the nearby coffee table. A gun. Against Alastair. He allowed himself a private chuckle.

Dean had no other choice but to settle in as he waited for Sam to return.

It seemed forever until the door opened again, and when Sam walked through it, he was grinning from ear to ear. "Bobby found something."

Dean didn't allow himself to feel hope.

* * *

The crossroads even seemed threatening to her as the sky darkened. She knew that she was a fool for doing this, but Ruby needed to understand why. Maybe she was being too hasty, but she needed information. As the seconds passed, this was beginning to seem like a bad idea. Just when she was about to turn and walk away to safety, _he_ appeared.

"Something on your mind, Ruby?"

_He'd come._

Ruby was undaunted and the question flew out of her mouth before she could reconsider. "I'm curious about that soul bond you're sharing with Dean Winchester "

The smile was frozen on Alastair's lips. "Nosy little bitch."

When she saw the look in the demon's eyes, Ruby took a step backwards. "I couldn't help but notice."

Alastair laughed. A hollow and bitter sound. "You know hell, Ruby. It's like indigestion. It keeps coming back on you."

She went silent. Her borrowed heart pounded.

"He was willing if that's what you want to know. If he was unwilling it would have been...messier. Going to relish in their misery?"

Ruby knew that she was treading on shaky ground. "I haven't told anyone. I really don't care if Dean goes downstairs again."

His eyes were sharp and predatory as he folded his manicured hands. Alastair had a habit for always choosing the most sophisticated of meat suits that belied the depraved monster within; Ruby wondered if he did that on purpose.

She shivered under his gaze as something crackled in the air...


	25. Teeming Darkness

Title: Teeming Shadows

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 995

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Sam was talking again, and Dean tried to focus on his intructions. He knew that they could save him.

"Here. It's what Bobby said to do. You hold the candle and say this."

Dean gripped his lit candle tight. The incense in the room was overpowering, and the herbs were itching his nose. It was beginning to dawn on him that he was beginning to dislike, no, truly _hate_ the smell. Most herbs didn't smell sweet like roses, but he wondered if the reaction was normal. The odor was damned near threatening to choke him.

Dean scanned the eight lines of Latin. It seemed so simple, but he felt his stomach drop at the thought of saying them.

He needed a new job.

The excuse was forthcoming. "I don't know if this will work."

"Bobby said that this was one of the strongest sealing spells ever written, Dean. It has to work. Why don't we give it a shot?"

Dean felt true terror ripping at his guts. He didn't have a good feeling about this at all. It would be too easy. And, the thought of being sealed was an uncomfortable one. But his options at present were scarce, and he couldn't afford to be too picky. Besides, the spell would would seal Alastair...wouldn't it? Keep him out? Wasn't that a good thing?

Sam was insisent. "Say the words, Dean. Before the candle burns out."

Honestly, Dean didn't want to. It was as if he could feel someone watching his futile attempts to clear himself of this evil. His senses were being flooded with an impending warning seasoned with crushing doom as if something was daring him to. But, he would set his unfounded fears aside and say the words regardless. He would do it. For Sam.

Under his brother's gaze, he recited the invocation in a voice that wavered more than he would like. The flame devouring the wick flickered as it grew larger; the wax dripping down from the candle onto his hand. He could feel an ancient power coursing through him. Hopefully, it was stronger than Alastair's. It would protect him from the demon.

"It's working!" Sam rejoiced.

For a moment, Dean felt relief. A fluttering of hope. Finally, this nightmare could end. If he could just get Alastair out of his head, then his life would be be back to normal. He would be able to think clearly once more.

All of a sudden, the candle was knocked out of his hand by an invisible force, and Dean stared after it in shock as the candle hit the wall. On impact, the flame died in curling smoke; Dean's hope burning with it.

"Was that supposed to happen?" Sam asked.

The ritual hadn't worked. He could feel it. Dean still felt exposed and vulnerable. On cue, he could have sworn that he heard bonechilling laughter. He stifled a sob as he keenly feel the sand trickling out of the hourglass. He was fucked to put it mildly.

"We'll try something else, Dean. Okay?"

How casual Sam made it sound. Except that they weren't perfecting a recipe for chocolate chip cookies. This was his _life_. Dean turned his back; scarlet staining his cheeks. He was upset to say the least. And so tired. His hand fanned out on the wall for support before sliding down to fall to his knees. Moments later, he felt Sam's hand on his shoulder and shuddered.

"Dean?"

Something was moving underneath his skin again, and Dean didn't know how long he could ignore it. "It's over," he announced hollowly.

There. It felt good to say out loud. Dean allowed his fatigued eyes to snap closed.

"No, it's not," Sam argued.

"Over," Dean repeated.

"No. It's going to be all right. We'll find another spell," Sam said it in a voice you would use for to a wounded animal. A dangerous animal.

Dean growled as he shoved Sam's hand away.

"Chill, Dean."

_It's his fault you're in this situation in the first place. Punish him, Dean._

Dean didn't know the origin of that voice, but he agreed with it. Something was breaking loose inside Dean. Something that had been caged for far too long. His blood bubbled over with hatred and despair. Suddenly, Dean had the urge to grab Sam by the throat.

"You think that you're the boss now, you little shit?"

It just took one second for the whole world to explode. In one seamless movement, Dean charged at Sam with strength he didn't even know he possessed, knocking Sam off his feet.

"It's over!" Dean yelled.

"Dean, stop!"

Sam was saying something, but he couldn't hear it. Both brothers wrestled and writhed on the floor only to crash into a table. Clutter rained down on their heads as they continued to roll across the room.

Suddenly, Ruby was in the room and she was pulling Sam away from Dean. Her supernatural strength along with Sam's were more than enough to hold him down. Dean stuggled, kicked, and fought against the demoness and his terrified, confused brother. He swore at them both. Didn't they understand? Couldn't they feel that something was wrong?

Dean roared in betrayal before his vision darkened. _Now_, he could see the shadows that had been pulling at him. He could feel the heat of the fire and smell the smoke. Eventually, he could see the individual demons leering at him. They were calling out to him. Mocking him.

_"Welcome back, Dean Winchester,"_ they whispered in his head.

Was it a hallucination? Another little trick? Had the spell done this? Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to debate as he was rapidly losing conciousness.

He knew that he was going back. He was going back to hell.

"Come on, Sam. We have to put him somewhere safe. Somewhere he can't hurt anyone," he could hear Ruby order.

"But, what's _happening_ to him?"

"Right now, Sam!"

A pause. "Where?"

Dean finally blacked out.

_"Goodbye, Sam..."_


	26. Confession

Title: Confession

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 949

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

_Dean knew that he should be worried as he walked along the corridor. He was aware that he was dreaming but didn't know precisely where he was going. It wasn't like there was anyone here to ask for directions. Strangely enough, this didn't bother him. Calm acceptance washed over him; nourishing his spirit and urging him forwards. He was meeting his destiny. He wasn't afraid anymore._

_At last, he opened a door that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He opened it in one smooth motion to encounter a tall form hunched over cleaning a razor. Dean wasn't afraid when he approached him. Instead, a shiver of excitement raced up his spine. He was finally here._

_"You're running out of time, my boy." Alastair said in a sing song voice._

_Dean could see the mutilated soul was only fascinated. His training was coming back to him, and he welcomed it like a fond friend._

_The soul disappeared from the rack leaving it empty. Dean's mouth opened in comprehension._

_Alastair at last turned around with a wide smile that stretched from ear to ear. "Such luck! Another position has just opened up. We've been waiting for you."_

* * *

Dean dreaded to open his eyes. He could feel that he was currently lying on cool tiles. It was safe to assume that he wasn't in hell. Yet.

Hell didn't feel this nice.

"It's for your own good, Dean," he heard Sam saying through the door. "We'll figure something else out."

Dean jerked awake; returning to his senses too late. Desperately, he tried the doorknob and wasn't surprised that it was locked.

He found his voice. "Sam! Let me out." Dean rattled the doorknob.

"Not yet."

"Let me out, _goddamn_ it!"

Dean began to bang on the door frantically. Something was closing in. It was as if he could feel the footsteps on his grave. His control on his life was slipping away.

"Stop!" Sam barked.

Dean stopped; fist frozen in midair. He was beginning to feel like a criminal rattling at the bars of his cell.

"Dean...you're not okay right now. You could hurt someone." Sam had evened his voice at least. It carried notes of apology, but Dean could hear the caution in it.

Then, in a flash, Dean remembered _everything_. He had attacked his brother. He had attacked Sam and wanted to hurt him. In Sam's eyes, he was now the enemy, and he knew that no one could argue with him, much less himself.

He should have just told Sam about that one moonlit night instead of hiding the truth. Now, he was fucked. Dean realized that he no longer had credibility. He was to be dealt with the hard way in the same manner of caging and eventually subduing a rabid dog.

Dean looked up at the ceiling. The bathroom was silent and dark. It became obvious that Sam had gone. He had left him behind. Dean knew that he could attempt breaking the door down, but knew that things would only get messier with Sam, not to mention Ruby.

_Fucking bitch._

_She_ knew. Ruby knew. Why was she doing this? Was there an alliance between her and Alastair? Was Ruby digging her claws into Sam and intentionally distancing him from his brother? Would the next step be presenting him to Alastair with a bow?

It wasn't going to end like this. Dean knew that he had one more lifeline left. He took a deep breath before weighing his options one last time. This was an emergency after all. He had been avoiding this day for far too long anyway.

Before he realized what he was doing, Dean's treacherous vocal chords opened. "Cas. Cas!"

He no longer cared if he was found out. Instead, Dean mentally steeled himself for the disappointment that would be in the angel's eyes.

"Castiel!" he called as loud as he dared.

Dean remained alone. The rejection was almost palpable. It would serve him right for his angel not to answer him. In all truth, he should let him to rot here. Maybe Castiel should have done so the first place. It would have made life so much easier for him now.

In hell, approximately twenty-five years would have passed. Cold gooseflesh broke out when Dean wondered what would have happened in twenty-five years. Would he have black eyes by now? Would he still be licking Alastair's shoes; hungering for approval?

"Hello, Dean." He heard a familiar voice behind him.

Dean wanted to cry out of sheer happiness.

"Cas!"

Dean turned around to see a familiar tan overcoat.

I'm in a bit of a jam," he confessed almost embarrassedly.

"You appear to be locked...in a bathroom." Castiel glanced at the toilet.

Dean sighed. "I'm locked in here. Sam did it."

"He had a reason to." Castiel replied.

Dean could feel his heart sink into his chest as he felt the angel's disappointment radiate into his soul. He knew. Castiel already knew.

Dean hung his head. Had Castiel been intentionally been avoiding him? Had he lost all of his allies in the space of one hour?

But, what happened next took Dean by total surprise.

"Here." The angel took a step towards him.

"What?"

Dean was already on his guard. Was the moment finally here? Would he soon feel the sensations of flames licking his flesh? Castiel had taken him out, but he could easily put him back. Dean was keenly aware of the power imbalance between himself and the warrior of heaven.

"We're leaving," Castiel announced harshly.

Before he knew it, Castiel's fingers touched his forehead, and Dean didn't even had time to take another breath before he was transported to another place.


	27. Rescued

Title: Rescued

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,297

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

When the world stopped spinning, the room slowly came into sharp focus. Dean could see right away that it was dark and shabby. Boarded up windows hid the dying sunlight, and he could see the dust motes circulate in the air. A chill ravaged Dean's bare arms, and he was suddenly cold. It appeared Castiel had taken him into custody. Until he kicked his ass right back down there at least. Dean was prepared for the worst. For anything.

"Where are we?" Dean asked; dread uncurling in his stomach.

The angel began to pace. Dean wanted to know what was on his mind, but he knew that he couldn't ask.

"A safehouse. Finding this place won't be easy, neither will getting into it."

Dean doubted that. Every place had a crack for a snake to slither inside.

Exhausted, he allowed himself to slide down on a convenient chair. Dean felt that he had no energy in his body as if he had been run over by a train. All he could do now was listen to all the punitive measures Castiel would no doubt mete out before berating him for being an idiot.

"Dean?"

He stiffened. Dean wished Castiel would just get _on_ with it. The anxiety alone would kill him.

"Why did you do it?"

Already, Castiel had dropped the million dollar question. Dean shivered from head to toe. He knew that the best policy decided to go with honesty. There was nowhere to run now. Nowhere to hide. His heart wept in his chest.

"I just wanted the pain to stop."

Dean knew that he hadn't been seduced. He had done what he had wanted; he had followed his true desire. He endured the way Castiel eyed him. No matter how dire the situation was right now, he sensed that it was the right moment to ask his own question.

"Cas, what exactly did Alastair do to me?"

For the first time, Castiel's face showed distant anger. "Alastair created a soul bond."

"Soul bond," Dean repeated the word as a fatal disease. "What's that?" Though deep inside didn't want to know even if his heart was jumping out of his chest in trepidation.

"You and Alastair are connected energetically in a deep part of your soul," explained Castiel.

"The part you can't remove." It was an elementary guess, but unfortunately the correct one.

Castiel nodded gravely. "The only way a soul bond can be implemented is by a person's own will."

No wonder his head was so fucked up. Why he was seeing things in the mirror. Why he could feel the heat of hell's flames. Why he was smelling sulfur and hearing voices. Dean bet that the demon could listen to his most intimate thoughts. All of this could be traced back to one idiotic decision.

It was official. Dean was probably the biggest loser on the face of the earth.

Dean couldn't help but remember blue skies as he laid on the hood of the Impala all those weeks ago. Instead of weeks, it seemed like years. He remembered the angel's answer to his question then but decided to ask it again out of the sheer desperation.

"Is...there any way you can remove it?"

"No as I've told you before. It's eternal. Even if you reincarnated, you would still have it."

Dean had to agree that that was pretty fucking deep. In other words, he was fucked.

"Now, my own brother thinks that I'm dangerous of me," he commented mostly to himself. "Why did you help me?"

Castiel's response was immediate. "I had to protect the righteous man."

Dean allowed himself a bitter laugh. He deserved it. "I'm not the the righteous man anymore."

Castiel nodded almost fiercely. "Yes. God has willed it."

Dean couldn't speak as his repressed emotions threatened to rise and swell into a tidal wave of tears.

"I know that you are upset."

Usually, Dean would give a retort for pointing out the obvious, but now, he simply turned his face just as as a tear rolled a silent path down his cheek. He never thought anything could hurt this fucking much.

Suddenly, Dean wanted comfort. Castiel seemed to recognize that he was in pain. Nonetheless, he stayed away from him; arms rigid. Dean didn't know what to expect from people anymore.

"There is a spell. We need your blood as well as Alastair's. The spell is in old Enochian and isn't in most standard spell books."

Dean reeled. How the hell was he supposed to get Alastair's blood? Dean couldn't see that scenario ending well. If he had known this, he should have bled the bastard when he had been chained to the devil's trap and taken a bottle of it. Couldn't Castiel could capture him again? Or Uriel?

When Dean turned around again, Castiel was walking away.

"I must go."

Dean was already alarmed. "Wait. Where are you going?"

"Samuel needs to be informed."

"I don't want you to go."

Dean didn't want to be alone. Just as he had been alone in that grave digging his way out. He knew that he was becoming pathetic; a hunter that was afraid of the things he hunter. Or, rather _one_ thing.

"This building is heavily guarded. It won't take much time."

"I screwed up all right," Dean suddenly sniffed. He offered the words as a sort of an apology.

Castiel's smile made his heart skip a beat. "Have faith."

Then, Castiel was gone. Vanished into thin air.

The words didn't have the same meaning to broken human being as they did to an angel. No, Castiel was doing his duty. He didn't care. Heaven needed him, and Dean was still all too aware that he was still a pawn in this game of chess. Black was approaching victory, and now white had to retaliate. Right about now, Dean was feeling gray.

Dean knew that he was losing too many people, and he knew that he would be left standing alone. Which would be exactly how Alastair would want him.

He wondered where exactly the soul bond was located, where the lurking invader hid. Dean strained with his senses to see if if he could feel it. If he could, he would tear it out with his bare hands, though muscle and bone...

All of a sudden, Dean heard the creak of floorboards behind him. He froze. Did something move? Hopefully, it was a rat. Involuntarily, he had broken into a cold sweat. What _was_ behind him?

He dared to peek over his shoulder. There was no one there. Or, was there?

Dean knew how vulnerable he was. And, somewhere, he could swear that he could feel Alastair all around him looking for an unprotected spot to strike.

* * *

"Are you _kidding_?"

Castiel blinked once. "Why would I kid?"

Sam was shaking his head. "Dean would never do that. He would never..."

"Sam, stop," Ruby cut in.

Castiel only glanced at Ruby before focusing on Sam. She was no concern of his. His business was with him.

"Hell changes a soul, and sadly Dean made and irrational decision not in his best interest."

"Damned right," the younger Winchester snapped back. Sam's face was contorted with rage. "What? I can't take care of my own brother? You have to take him from me?"

Castiel noticed that Ruby was surreptitiously backing out of the room.

He chose his words carefully. "The bond needs to be broken. There is a spell known mainly to celestial beings, and we need both Dean's and Alastair's blood. But, even then..."

"Even then _what_?" the human snarled.

Samuel's pain was evident in his eyes. The heartache was palpable here. Castiel was experiencing the emotion too much.

"Samuel, your brother is in for a long hard road."


	28. Comfort

Title: Comfort

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 955

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Dean was getting _paranoid_. Even after he had discovered the light switch and turned on every light he could; he still felt that his every move was being coolly being observed by a pair of opalescent eyes. As he reluctantly searched through the rooms, Dean finally discovered a place that could have been a kitchen. On a countertop, he found a lone glass and immediately filled it up from the metal faucet. Well, he_ was_ thirsty. He'd spent half a day locked up in a bathroom.

When Dean tipped the glass back to drink, his eyes widened as he noticed that the water in the glass had turned ruddy. It had turned to _blood_. He choked, a wet sputtering sound throat, and dropped the glass where it shattered on impact into tiny slivers.

"Stop fucking around Alastair," he whispered hoarsely.

For a moment, Dean thought he could hear laughter.

"You should be more careful," a vaguely comforting voice said from behind him.

Dean turned to see Anna standing there. He stared at her uncomprehendingly as she was one of the last people he ever expected to see. His mouth went dry. Immediately, he was on his guard. Surprises weren't always good.

"Did Castiel send you here?"

Anna kept her head down. "No. This is a safe house known to angels, and...I'm an angel."

He could hear the strain in her voice, but Dean nodded in understanding. They both knew that statement didn't ring quite true. Anna was a fallen angel. But, Dean knew as a fallen man that he was in no place to judge. At least they could relate; two fugitives on the run.

He watched her drift closer and wondered if she was a threat to him. However, he wasn't sure he cared.

"I can see it," Anna whispered suddenly.

"What?" His heart was in his throat.

"Your bond."

"Can you?" Dean's eyes were beginning to mist with tears. "What does it look like?"

She was hesitant at first. "It's...dark and smoky. Like barbed wire."

Dean thought it was an accurate description. It sounded like a spiked dog collar around his neck; an emblem of Alastair's ownership

"Anna? What am I supposed to do?" Dean wasn't surprised when his voice cracked nor was he ashamed.

She seemed to be considering his words; her gaze far away.

"I can't stay too long, or I'll be discovered."

Of course there could be no answer. What could Anna do? Not even Castiel was sure how to handle this.

Gently, Dean was unprepared when she cupped his face between her hands. He could still remember their night of passion in the Impala, and now, her touch was making him fall apart at the seams. Here was somebody kind. Somebody good.

It was as if she was a flower petal caught in the wind, and at any moment, she could be snatched away from him.

He allowed himself be drawn into her soft embrace. For once, it was as if Dean could feel heaven. Bathing in her concern, he suddenly kissed her on the lips and it felt...right. His eyes closed contentedly. Someone out there still cared.

Then, Dean heard the sound of distant of wings taking flight. When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't surprised to find that she was gone. If she had even been real to begin with. She could easily have been one of Alastair's illusions. Who would show up next tonight? Sam? _Mom_?

Dean stood there frozen in place as he wondered what would await him next.

* * *

"What the hell do you mean soul bond?" Sam was so tired of this cryptic bull shit.

"Dean and Alastair are connected," Castiel explained.

Sam still had trouble processing this information. " I know that," he growled. "But why? Why would Dean do this?"

The angel sighed and for once seemed uncomfortable. "Dean is...lost. And troubled. Severely troubled."

Sam let the comment slide. That was a delicate way to put it.

"How long will Alastair do this?"

"Until your brother gives in. Until he follows him to hell."

Sam turned away as an inappropriate laugh escaped his lips. "Stupid. He's a stupid ass is what he is."

Castiel shook his head. "I don't know why he's making it so hard."

"That's Dean for you." Ruby's comment was dry and unexpected.

Sam's attention shifted to her. "Do you know anything about this, Ruby?"

"Other demons don't get involved with soul bonds. It's dangerous territory."

"What's so dangerous about soul bonds?"

Ruby seemed to be on the verge of rolling her eyes "Well, for one, the demon practically owns them. The person is considered his or her property. "

"Why the fuck would anyone want to create one?"

"Why do you humans do anything?" Ruby mocked; fire in her eyes. "The same reason demon deals are made in the first place. Some might feel loyalty towards the demon. Others may want to attain power through the link or to gain psychic abilities. Who knows? Only older and more powerful demons know how to create bonds or have knowledge of them to begin with. Like I said: dangerous."

Sam was speechless for a moment. Could Ruby have known something all along?

"The righteous man has fallen far," she continued. "If Dean goes on Team Dark Side, well, we're screwed. I guess you'll have to save the world solo, Sammy."

"This is Dean we're talking about. We can't just abandon him. Right, Cas?"

Both stared at the empty spot where the angel had been standing.

"Castiel?" Sam called out.

He didn't return.

* * *

"Do you understand, dear? This is a very special assignment."

"I can handle it."

Alastair chuckled. "You always were one of my favorite students, Meg."


	29. Precarious Position

Title: Precarious Position

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,031

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Dean listened to the silence as he watched a moth with frayed wings crawl across the countertop. The insect was real. He even entertained thoughts of picking it up so that its legs would whisper against his palm leaving behind streaks of silvery powder. He missed that feeling of childhood innocence.

Dean wasn't as relieved as he thought he'd be when Cas eventually arrived. _Great_. Now, he could be monitored again by angelic eyes.

"Has anyone been here?" Castiel immediately asked.

Dean decided that he wasn't going to hide it. "Um, Anna."

Castiel's expression was immediately accusatory.

"Oh, come on. She's not working with anyone. She just wanted to show her support."

If the redhead hadn't been a figment of his imagination to begin with.

Castiel went on ahead as if he'd never spoken. "The demons are still breaking seals and there is news that hell has sent recruits to recapture you."

"Good to be so popular."

Castiel's gaze darkened. "This is serious, Dean."

Dean erupted as his last bit of control snapped. "What is so important about me anyway?" he demanded. "Why was I saved?"

"I can't say," Castiel replied softly.

The reason of course was unspoken. No one thought he could be trusted. They all thought the little traitor would pass along the information to Alastair.

"What am I supposed to do?" The question was serious.

"You need to have more faith."

More faith? Dean had no faith. God or some other higher power had abandoned him long ago in his life. Now, he was lost in a bank of fog surrounded by faceless predators.

Suddenly, Dean heard another flutter of wings. For a tortuous moment, hope sparked in his chest. Anna? Had she come back? But no. He knew that he couldn't be that lucky. He audibly groaned when he saw who had arrived with a sour expression on his face.

"Uriel? Come to make my day brighter?"

The suited angel smirked. "I knew that you were trouble, boy, but Castiel would not heed me. Should I smite him now? Maybe if I do all of this can end."

Dean was reaching the end of his road. Alastair would get him, or the angels would destroy him. Either way, Dean was beginning to think he wasn't going to get out of this alive. If Uriel made good on his threat right now, it would all be over. Then, he would be in hell. No one would be mad at him anymore.

"No. That's what Alastair would want. You are smarter than him, brother."

Uriel couldn't very well argue with that. He appraised Castiel carefully. Dean couldn't help but notice that Castiel was coming to his rescue a lot lately, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Out of nowhere, a familiar chill brushed against his skin. Dean gasped; hoping that it was his imagination. A face from his past was announcing his presence.

"Dean?"

Dean turned. _There_. Alastair was standing right there wearing his most malevolent grin. So, true to his word, he had returned to take him home.

"Dean?" Castiel sounded alarmed.

Then, Dean watched in disbelief as the demon vanished in front of his eyes. His imagination. It had to be his imagination. But, somehow, he doubted that. The vision had been too real. And now he had that smile perfectly burned into his head...

Had the hallucination of Alastair been a warning? Was he beckoning him home?

Uriel shook his head reproachfully.

"The soul bond is getting deeper. Soon, it will be too..."

"Uriel!" Castiel's voice held warning.

Dean watched the exchange between the two angels. It was clear that Uriel had ruffled his angel's feathers.

"His personality _will_ change," Uriel continued. "He _will_ become a _liability_. You know that as well as I do."

No matter what happened, Dean would never choose him. He would never choose the dark side.

"We can't keep him here forever!"

Castiel responded with a glare. "Dean is needed. Father has willed it. Here, he will be protected."

This seemed to shut Uriel up for the moment. Dean watched the burly angel as he shrugged.

"I honestly don't know what use he is to us now. Sooner or later he will betray us. I wish you could see a lost cause when you see it, brother."

For some reason, Dean was beginning to feel more at ease. He had Cas in his corner, but he knew that he couldn't trust emotions of safety. He was still in danger as he ever was. Though, Cas had saved him, Dean knew that he was one of _them_. He could turn on him any time he outlived his purpose.

Dean had to hold onto Sam. He needed to fight for him. However, he found that his heart grew colder at the thought of Sam. No. He didn't want him. Sam had chosen Ruby over him; a demon over his own brother. Ironic that everyone assumed that he had had done the same.

At least he still had Castiel in his corner. The angel seemed to believe in him.

Dean's life was far from peachy. In fact, Dean suspected that things were going to get even worse.

* * *

Meg became one with the night as she prowled through the trees. Though in attitude and personaity she remained a precocious teenager, she could also be efficient and responsible as a predator. In her history, she had both Azazel and Alastair twisted around her finger. Because of this, Meg couldn't help but feel an unbecoming jealousy. She supposed that she had grown boring and Alastair wanted a new star apprentice. As practical as ever, Meg knew that she was in no position to criticize. In her world, orders were meant to be followed.

Meg had a reputation to uphold after all.

The demoness knew that she should feel honored such an important case. If they could recapture Dean Winchester, victory would be theirs. Heaven would lose their greatest weapon. And all because her boss wanted to bed a Winchester.

A smirk played across her lips. Oh, she might know a way or two how to make the elder Winchester come out of hiding...


	30. Desperate Prayers

Title: Desperate Prayers

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 971

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

He knew that he was nearing the end of his life's story. The pages were turning swiftly in the book of his sad life; caught in a whirlwind he created. Sam had always said that he was his own worst enemy.

Dean was purposefully keeping himself out of the way, and it seemed that the angels in the immediate vicinity work seemed to appreciate it. Uriel and Castiel were shut up in the next room. Dean was tempted to hear their conversation, but he wasn't sure he was ready to hear them compare notes about him.

Dean knew that he was now like that messed up kid with drugs in his locker sitting out in front of the principal's office, except he wasn't in trouble with someone as mundane as an administrator; he had angered heaven. Dean guessed that that was worse.

The warmth of the spring was slow to arrive this year. The cavernous house was cold and damp. It obviously lacked heat. Then again, angels never got cold.

It was as if Dean were sinking in a deep hole. It was even harder to keep track of time. Comparable to a trapped bug running out of air. Somewhere deep inside him, the bond with Alastair lurked; eating away at him like terminal cancer.

"Come with me..."

He jumped. Dean knew that the voice was in his head, so he ignored it. The demon wasn't here right now. Dean had to train all of his senses against the influx invading his subconscious.

"Dean." His familiar voice resonated deep within his soul.

All of a sudden, he was cold. So cold. Dean gasped as if caught in a blizzard. He wanted to be warm again. The hunter was suddenly on his feet wrestling with an intense compulsion to go out the door. He was steadily moving towards it as if caught in a nightmare. The dark. He would find peace in the dark...

"Papa's waiting..."

Dean didn't belong here anymore; he should have never been raised from the grave. He would correct this error.

Sobs hiccupped in his throat as his feet kept taking steps. It didn't seem like his body wanted to stop.

"Dean!"

The angel's familiar hand grasped his arm; a throb surging through where the handprint marked his skin. Castiel's handprint. The sensation was enough to root him back to reality.

Dean scanned Castiel's face. His rich blue eyes. He'd been caught.

"You were praying," Castiel intoned.

Dean was confused. "Was I?"

Dean couldn't recall. His mind was a blank.

Castiel nodded. "I could hear it."

"Where? How?"

"In your heart."

Before Dean realized it, he was grinning. He wanted to hug Castiel for halting his progress. It was a victory no matter how small or fleeting; a temporary defense from the demon who was slowly taking over his mind.

Still, Dean knew that his future was far from secure.

* * *

Ruby never listening to her intuition; a trait that often warranted trouble.

She should have stayed inside nestled on the bed watching a monster movie marathon with a bowl of buttery popcorn brushing against Sam's arm. Ruby knew she was getting spoiled as a human, but she didn't care. Life was so much better without Sam's angsty hell-obsessed brother.

As she walked across the deserted motel parking lot, she noticed a presence lurking behind her. Although, the being didn't seem to have dangerous intentions.

Ruby didn't like being on someone's radar.

She sighed and turned around to see Meg in a different meat suit. Ruby hated it at first glance. It was too similar to her own. Long dark hair was obviously getting to be a popular model.

"Meg."

"Ruby. How've you been?" Meg mocked as if they both attended the same high school.

Ruby was immediately on her guard. For one, they didn't travel in the same circles. Meg had far better connections...so she thought. Her appearance could only bring trouble in the form of attention from the higher ups in hell's hierarchy.

"Your services are required."

"By whom?"

The possibility of Lilith writhed through in her mind. No. Her mistress wouldn't share any information with her. But, there was always an unfortunate risk of a double cross in her race.

"Alastair."

Ruby was aware that she may have entered deeper trouble. "And if I refuse?"

"Need I remind you who you are saying 'no' to? Your name is already on the rack on permanent reservation."

Despite Meg's threats, Ruby couldn't let this happen. Dean was necessary. However, Ruby couldn't let on a plan she couldn't be involved her. Meg, unfortunately, noticed her unease.

"Oh, believe me, I'm just as thrilled as you are to be here." Meg's nose wrinkled in disgust as if she were slumming.

Damn, she hated Alastair. Now, the creepy master of pain wanted her help. But, at the moment, she needed to be discreet. As was in her nature, she cautiously chose the path of least resistance.

"What do I have to do?"

Meg's smile widened. "It involves your hunter boy toy. Alastair needs Dean to come out of hiding. Make him come out of hiding."

"How should I do that?" Ruby didn't mention how depressed Sam was after Dean ditched him and had very little motivation to do anything at the moment that wasn't stationary.

Meg shrugged. "Use your imagination."

There were complications to this. Dean was needed alive. Both Dean and Sam needed to be on earth. Or, did it matter? As long as Sam and Lilith hooked up in time for the last seal...

Free. Her father would be free.

Meg had no idea. She was simply an errand girl; a messenger for Alastair. If she was aware that this was a bad idea, she didn't show it.

The only problem that remained which Winchester brother to involve.


	31. Road Trip

Title: Road Trip

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 922

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

"Kill him!" Uriel roared across the table. "As you know, soul bonds cannot be undone. Sorry about your human, brother." Uriel shrugged apologetically

"He is needed." Castiel argued. His stance was valid

"He has diminished in value." Uriel snorted.

"He is still under our protection!"

"Perhaps I can be of assistance, brothers." A new voice interjected.

Both angels were surprised to see Zachariah standing there. Their superior.

Uriel smirked. "Well, you're early to the party."

Zachariah expression was sheepish "What can I say? This ruckus was too good to miss"

"Do you come bearing any orders about the matter?"

"It seems that the vessel's destiny has come to a branch. He will have to rely on his free will. We can consider it a test."

Castiel shifted uncomfortably as he listened to this latest revelation.

"The spawn of hell cannot be eliminated," Zachariah continued. "If he were to die, Dean would die as well consequence of a soul bond."

Castiel wasn't worrying. Alastair couldn't be killed. There had to be a way, but divine providence hadn't shown a way yet.

"Where is our hero anyway?" Zachariah asked nonchalantly.

"Outside. Can't you smell the evil stench?" Uriel snarled.

"And wrestling with his conscience no doubt."

Uriel stared.

Zachariah grinned. "Good."

Castiel was beginning to grow unsettled. They were treating Dean like a refuse bin.

"Some components of fate can be rearranged. There is the possibility of another Michael vessel..."

Castiel had stood silent long enough. "Dean Winchester must be saved."

"Do I sense an attachment to this human, Castiel?" Zachariah asked.

"We are warriors of God. We can't abandon him to evil. We can't forsake one single person."

"You dare to remind us of me of our duties? You are dangerously stepping close to pride. How so like our brother that will remain nameless."

Feeling a bit alienated, Castiel left the room to check on Dean. He was sitting on a threadbare sofa with a tortured expression.

"Are you all placing bets on me to see how long until I crack?" Dean's tone was bitter.

His human already carried too far much pain on his overloaded shoulders. The angel knew that the hunter had lost all. He could see how hopeless he was. How numb. Castiel was uncomfortable.

"Bet you can't wait to get rid of me, huh?"

"You are under our protection."

Although, Castiel could tell that Dean felt like a prisoner.

"I want to see Sam," Dean suddenly announced in a quaking voice. "Can I go see Sam?"

"Do you miss him?" Castiel asked. He was genuinely curious. Dean was always so full of...emotion.

Dean nodded.

"That would not be wise."

"Why not?" he snapped. "Your buddies clearly have it in for me. I'm practically waiting for the end until I'm put out of my misery."

The righteous man was literally shattering into shards upon on the floor.

"Leaving this place will put you at risk."

"I can't let that fight be the last time I see him."

Against his better judgment, Castiel relented. "Fine."

Castiel knew that he was on the verge of falling for this human.

* * *

Dean could see that Sam and Ruby had moved to another motel. Was it to evade him? Dread in his heart, he knocked on the door.

Immediately, the door opened as if someone had been waiting for a visitor.

"Dean?"

"Sam?" He gawked at his brother.

"Where the hell were you?"

Ruby looked shocked to see him standing there as if he were as rare a sight as a unicorn. Then, he remembered he didn't give a damn about what she thought.

Sam went straight for the throat. "I know about your soul bond, Dean. Cas told me."

There it was. The truth was out in the open.

"It was late at night, and I was scared. I was stupid, Sammy."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to tell you what I was going through. I'm so sorry." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Dean could imagine Alastair laughing at his pathetic display.

He was tempted to get on his knees; groveling for his brother to forgive him. For the universe.

"I can't control what I feel..."

"You mean, what he's making you feel, Dean."

Dean bit his lips; the pain was distracting yet honest. Purposeful. "I'm not so sure, Sammy."

He could see it begin to sink in. A flash of pain and betrayal lit in Sam's eyes, and Dean was the one causing it.

Somewhere up above, his father was looking down at him with disfavor; the original righteous man who had never broken for Alastair. The man Dean would never be.

"Sometimes, I just want to go back to where everything made sense," Dean confessed.

Dean was totally unprepared when Sam stepped forward and slapped him.

"Ouch," Ruby commented from the sidelines.

"Did that make sense?" Sam seethed.

Dean knew that he had deserved it. He hadn't forgotten how brutally he had attacked Sammy days ago.

"Actually, yes." He turned to Cas. "This was a bad idea."

The angel stared. He looked under duress

"We need to go." Sam blurted out.

"Where? As in leave the country?"

The demon would just follow him. Even if they went to Mexico or Canada.

"We're leaving tonight," Sam announced. "Out of this county. Maybe out of this state."

Dean nodded. His mind seemed to have quieted at last. For the moment.

He really wasn't in the mood for a road trip, but then again, Dean had no better ideas.


	32. Disturbing the Peace

Title: Disturbing the Peace

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,076

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

It truly was insulting to have Ruby in the passenger side. It was as if he were the problem child in the backseat. Just as insulting as it was to have Sam drive.

Dean took a moment to appreciate how bizarre it was two hunters, an angel, and a demon in the same car. Dean couldn't shake the notion that right now he and his brothers had divided into two tense teams: Dean with Cas and Sam with Ruby.

"That looks like a good place." Ruby pointed to a building off the main highway.

Sam slowed. "The Sunset Haven?"

Dean needed to rediscover his place in the driver's seat, not to mention his balls.

When did Ruby start making decisions? Were they married? A demon had more say than he did? Dean shook his head but said nothing were together anything was better than staying in that termite-eaten house trapped with angels that were more enemies than allies. Speaking of which, why was Cas still here? Didn't he have angel business to do? Dean was so used to him disappearing.

"Now, what?" Dean addressed the car.

Sam eyed him from the rearview mirror. "It's just a change of scenery, Dean."

Dean nodded. Agreeing seemed to cause fewer problems than arguing. For him, anyway.

It didn't take long for them to settle inside the new motel. While Sam began to fry ham and eggs for dinner, Dean wandered out on the connecting balcony. What he needed right now was some fresh air. He took his time to enjoy the breeze and dying bird song as the sun lowered into the sky. Content for the moment, Dean closed his eyes.

Suddenly, his cell phone rang disturbing the peace of the dusk. Quickly, Dean answered it.

"Hello, is this Mr. Winchester?" the cultured voice asked.

"Speaking."

"Would you be interested in taking a mental health survey? It won't take much time."

"Go right ahead."

Dean didn't have anything important to do anyway.

"Have you been depressed recently?"

"Yes." What a coincidence. The doc had no idea.

"Have you had trouble sleeping?"

Definitely. "Yes."

"Are you stuck in a rut?"

Fuck, yes.

"Yes."

"Are you keeping secrets from loved ones?"

"Yes?"

Now, this was getting weird not to mention suspicious. Dean had a feeling that this was a joke that was nearing its final punch line.

"Are you having an affair?"

Dean said nothing. Then, his hand started to shake so had that he threatened to drop the cell phone. His heart was beginning to pound. Dean knew that that he could hear it.

"With me?"

How like Alastair to pose as a doctor. Dean guessed that was in yet another meat suit lurking in a dark alley. Somewhere, someone with a missing cell phone was lying dead in a pool of their own blood.

"I even know what town you're staying in. Tanton? A grubby little town that's seen better days? You're in motel room 8, I believe.

"Alastair."

The demon chuckled. "Don't worry. I'll be in touch."

"Wait!"

The phone clicked as Alastair hung up.

No one had seen the phone call, so Dean didn't have to explain. He knew that he was quickly becoming a pathological liar. What could he say? Alastair's on his way? Don't sleep? They couldn't hit the road yet. Everyone was tired. They had just arrived.

One thing was for certain. They had to get Alastair's blood. No question about it. Cas said that they needed it to break the soul bond. Dean wondered how many days or weeks it would take. Dean wasn't going to live forever after all.

Did Alastair know everything right now? Could he read his mind? Did he know if he was asleep or awake at any minute of the day?

Mind straining from anxiety, Dean came back inside to find a bag of herbs on the table.

"What's this for?" he asked. "Are we doing a spell again?" He knew how well that worked out last time.

"They're for a brew," Castiel explained. "These herbs will soothe your inner agonies."

That was certainly a delicate way to put it.

"I'm not an herbal tea drinker."

But, Dean saw that there was already water boiling on the stove. With nothing else to do at the moment, Dean decided to wait there in the kitchenette until it was finished.

After the water had been poured into a cup, he frowned into it. "What's in this?"

"Something that will soothe the pain and anxiety."

The tea tasted bitter and medicinal with a flavor reminiscent of mint. It wasn't that bad.

"Angels know how to make tea. Who knew?" Dean allowed a rare smile to invade his lips.

Sam smiled back gamely, but somehow the expression didn't seem genuine.

As he drank, Dean felt a peace seal over his soul. Drinking the tea felt like a bandage covering the raw oozing cuts and wounds. He finally felt...better.

The tea gently caressed his throat all the way down before the first wave of nausea of hit. Dean wondered if this was supposed to happen.

Did Cas poison me?

Dean raced into the bathroom expecting to retch, but nothing came up. He hadn't been eating enough. That was it. Then again, would throwing up be that bad? Maybe he would vomit and watch the corruption from the soul bond go down the drain. If only he would be that lucky.

Dean finally exited the bathroom. Sam was still in the kitchen cleaning up, but Castiel was nowhere to be found.

"Where's Cas?" he asked.

"He'll be around." Sam was drying a plate.

Even though the angel spoke little, Dean still felt safer when he was around. It was if they shared an unspoken alliance.

Dean turned to walk into the bedroom and ran right into the demon.

"To be honest, I don't envy you. You're like his property now. Considering who he is, that must be sickening." Ruby actually shivered.

"Still trying to make me feel better, Ruby?"

"I've heard that humans with soul bonds will seek eventually the demon out."

"Really?" This was not good news.

Dean would chain himself to the kitchen table before that happened.

She went on. "They also say the human can slowly become corrupt inside. Evil. It's a slippery slope."

The little bitch really knew how to cut to the quick.

Dean's jaw tightened. "We'll see."

It was time for Dean to take his power back. Somehow.


	33. Talking in His Sleep

Title: Talking in His Sleep

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,172

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Dean knew that he was being alienated against. He could almost see the silent wisps of accusation in the air. Still, he was a part of the group again, but he didn't really feel a part of it. He knew that he couldn't expect too much. First, he needed to prove his worth again. Somehow, he would find a way.

Every so often, he felt eyes on him. Dean pretended to ignore the looks from Sam and Ruby. Of course, they were suspicious of him.

Himself. He'd done this all to himself.

Eventually, Dean hoped that all of this would be forgotten. Swept under the rug. Then, they could all put this behind them. Life could return to normal.

Later, he found himself watching a Western on television. The volume was set too low as he was the only one left awake. Dean already knew he couldn't sleep, so why should he try?

Dean shifted his position on the sofa, and his foot struck a body that hadn't been there before. Dean jumped in panic before he relaxed. Cas had appeared.

"It's only me, Dean."

Dean was taken aback by how intense his angel's eyes looked.

"I can see that. Any news?"

"No."

Dean knew that he was still a dead man walking. Nobody even cared. Dean breathed in deeply to clear his thoughts. What he said next even surprised even him.

"Cas, tell me about heaven."

Castiel seemed taken aback at first before he nodded. "Heaven is whatever you want it to be. Wherever you feel the happiest."

Dean would choose to be back home in Kansas with two parents and a little brother that loved him. A real family with his mother still alive.

"Are there lots of puffy white clouds?"

"Yes, of course. Snow too. And fields of flowers filled with the most delicate of spring blooms."

Dean could imagine it. It was as beautiful as a watercolor painting. So innocent and pure. He wanted to step into that perfect vision and never leave.

It would be as close as he was ever going to get to paradise. He knew that there would be no happy ending for him. But, for now, the story calmed his nerves like he was a little child. Somewhere, deep inside him there still remained a tender spot that craved love and comfort. Dean knew that it existed. Alastair could always find it.

His chest ached. He could feel foreboding take over him. Was the demon getting closer? Were his senses warning him?

He stood. "I think I'll get more of that tea."

Dean began to worry. Something was getting nearer. His chest felt so constricted. At the moment, Dean knew that only one thing could delay the assault. He would drive this evil out one way or another.

He hurried to the kitchen to get some more water boiling. With shaking hands, he packed the cup with herbs and poured. Dean took a cautious sip. However, as he drank more, the tea began to roil around in his guts until Dean started to gag. With disgust, Dean slammed the teacup down on the worn wooden table.

He was building a resistance to the healing tea. This wasn't good. Dean had no other ammunition against the demon's influence.

In the other room, Sam was still snoring away. How peaceful he was sleeping. Dean felt a twinge of envy. He hadn't truly relaxed in weeks. Suddenly, Dean jumped when an unseen hand touched him. Castiel seemed to be able to sense his distress.

"You're tired. You should sleep."

Castiel's touch provoked a warm feeling. His shoulder felt like it was glowing.

His problems would still be there in the morning, but for now, he would accept Castiel's protection, his comfort, as he crashed into the bed. Hours later, Dean awoke to Sam looming over him worriedly.

Dean got the impression that something very bad had happened.

"Are you okay, dude?" Sam asked.

"Why? What's wrong?"

Sam appeared extremely traumatized. "You were saying his name."

Dean chuckled. "No, I wasn't."

He wouldn't. He would never say his name.

"You were," Sam insisted. "As you slept, you were screaming. You were crying out Alastair's name. And..."

Dean's mind had blown out like a light bulb. His voice was now barely above a whisper. "And? What else?"

Sam shook his head as if he wanted to contradict himself. "You were asking him to take you back...to take you back with him. Take you back to hell."

Dean felt a pang of sympathy. His brother was so freaked out that the words were hard to form.

"I didn't mean it. It must have been a nightmare," Dean replied smoothly.

Except Dean hadn't been dreaming. Not one single nightmare that he could remember. In fact, he had enjoyed a rather pleasant sleep.

It was Dean's turn to get pissed. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"Ruby said not to. She said it would make it worse."

Ruby. Still a little interfering bitch.

"I can't control myself when I'm asleep."

"But, a deep inaccessible part of you might want to return. Do you even want to be here, Dean? Do you want to be alive?"

Damn Sam for using his psychology classes against him.

Dean took a moment of silence to let the gravity of what Sam was implying to sink in.

"No, I _want_ hell. I want to roast in its eternal flames," he quipped. "What do you think?"

Sam seemed even more saddened by his sarcasm. "You're not the same, Dean. You haven't been for weeks. Months."

"I could say the same about you," Dean growled.

"Yeah, I know. But, Azazel fed me his blood when I was a baby. I didn't have a choice."

"Neither did I!" Dean snapped back.

Sam looked ready to argue that point, but he didn't dare. Dean knew that they were at a stalemate.

Dean knew that he had possessed a choice on that rack, but he broke. And, when he broke, he had accepted the evil influence rotting his soul away.

"We should be ready for him, Dean. Maybe we should search for him. Do a spell to see where he is."

Dean remained silent. He didn't want to see where Alastair was. With his luck, he was standing outside the front door. Thinking of meeting the demon again made his skin crawl. He would do whatever he could to prevent that encounter.

"If worse comes to worst, we have one other weapon."

"What other weapon?" Dean rasped.

Sam shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Well, me."

"You don't have enough juice to take him on," he pointed out. Dean couldn't even bear to speak his name for fear the demon would hear him.

Sam smiled sheepishly. "Well, I haven't tried in a while."

At least Sam could send him back to hell. That would be a comfort. Then, maybe Dean would be able to sleep through the night.

Dean was just starting to feel slightly optimistic when the power went off.


	34. Cut It Out

Title: Cut It Out

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,170

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

"What the hell happened?" Dean could hear Sam ask somewhere in the blanket of darkness.

Hell. An interesting word choice of words.

"The power went out." Dean responded hollowly.

It was like he was trapped in a nightmare; a nightmare that never came to an end.

Suddenly, something crashed to the ground, and Dean was immediately on edge. He could hear Sam swear. Dean relaxed. He guessed that his brother had knocked something over.

"I'm going to find the flashlight. It should be in the duffel bag."

The power going out could be just a normal occurrence. Maybe a car struck a telephone pole outside or someone forgot to pay the electric bill. Something mundane.

Dean could see that Sam had found the flashlight. A beam of light slashed through the blackness as Sam walked towards the door.

"I'm going to go outside."

Dean's heart began to pound. "Sam, no..."

_He doesn't want you..._

Sam ignored him. His brother left the room before softly closing the door behind him. Dean waited; frozen in place. He began to panic when he realized that Sam wasn't coming back. It seemed that days had passed when the door opened again.

"Dean..." Sam's voice sounded weak.

"What?"

"There's something...on the door."

Dean's blood had turned glacial. Solemnly, he crossed the room, left the sanctuary of the motel room, and inspected the door.

The first thing that registered was the bright red blood. Dean knew that there were animals in the area. Predators. Foxes, feral cats, and coyotes that could leave behind such a mess. But, no, it was a bloody handprint. Almost a mockery of what was branded on his shoulder. No animal could do that.

They should have left town when they had the chance. He was here.

However, when they ducked back inside, the power blinked back on. Of course. The damage had been done after all.

"We need protection," Sam said in a rush. "Charms. Hex bags. Anything."

In the middle of the living room area, Ruby stood there. It appeared that even she was full of unease; eyes wide with fright.

"Maybe we should just give him what he wants," she sighed. "Then, Alastair would leave us alone. We could live and stop the apocalypse ourselves."

So. It was happening. It finally dawned on Dean what Sam and Ruby had really been discussing in private. His fate.

"We can't give Dean up!" Sam shouted; chest heaving. "How can you even think that, Ruby?" The volume of Sam's voice threatened to attract attention.

"Sam..."

"We never gave up," he continued. "We didn't give even in to the Yellow Eyed Demon. Dean didn't give up on me. We're going to get through this."

"Or, Dean could give himself up," Ruby suggested. "Sorry to say, soul bonds have no cure, Sammy. There is no quick fix. I'm a demon, and I know some things."

Dean couldn't even begin to imagine himself in hell again. His body began to shake all over, and his mind was beginning to fade out. It was just all too much.

"But, Cas can dig it out. We just need the demon's blood. That's what he said."

"Well...good luck trying to get Al's blood. Even though Dean has an angel in his corner, in the end, he still might die. "For how matter-of-fact she spoke, Ruby could have been talking about a fly.

"There's blood on the door," Sam pointed out.

"Oh, come on." Ruby rolled her eyes. "Do you really think it's his blood?"

Sam was resolute. "We can try."

Dean was silently trying to keep it together before he just...lost it.

"Here, I'll make it easy for the both you," he snarled at them with more savagery than he had intended.

"Dean?"

Suddenly, he turned his eyes to the ceiling. "Here I am, Alastair! I'm ready."

"_Cut it out_!" Sam exploded.

The peeling peach walls mocked him with silence. Fine. He was just getting warmed up.

Grinning sadistically, Dean got down on his knees and spread his arms wide. He was beginning to enjoy their shocked their expressions.

"Take me! Drag me back to hell with you! I've missed you."

"Dean, _stop_!"

Was Sam happy now? Was Ruby?

When Dean turned back around to look at them, he also saw a trench-coated figure standing there. Suddenly, he felt so ashamed.

Cas. Cas had been watching. Dean felt as low as a piece of gum stuck to the bottom a shoe.

"I'm going out." he whispered feebly.

Sam lunged at this information. "Where?"

"To the lobby. Just to clear my head."

"Good idea, Dean," Ruby quipped.

Dean scurried across the parking lot into the main building. There was no one at the front desk. In the lounge, there was lopsided couch and several chairs. It was vacant apart from one lone middle aged gentleman in a hat sitting near a table. The tabletop was littered with two king-sized candy bars and a mug of root beer. Currently, the man was engaged in eating an ice cream sandwich. Even Dean could admit that was an excessive amount of sugar. The man was courting an ulcer or extensive dental work.

Trying not to stare, Dean took a seat.

After a minute or so, the man turned to him. "Rough night?" he asked.

Dean knew what he must look like to most people. He was a mess.

He snorted. "You have no idea."

"Woman trouble?"

"Stalker trouble, actually."

"Have you gone to the police?"

Dean watched the man take a bite out of his ice cream.

"I don't think even the police could solve this one."

"Well, I know what my father would say," the man said between chewing.

"What?"

The man's blue eyes twinkled. "Have faith."

It was the same thing Cas had said. Quite a coincidence.

"Uh, well, thanks."

"Any time."

It was the first bit of kindness that had been bestowed on him in a while. No judgmental stares. No accusation. Just an ear and some advice. Dean had to keep himself from staring at the man. There was something undeniably familiar in his face and movements. Finally, he managed to tear himself away.

As Dean swiftly moved past the rows of cars in the parking lot, the cell phone rang. Without hesitation, Dean immediately answered it.

"Did you like my gift?" the voice asked.

_Alastair._

"Let's finish this," Dean heard himself say. "Stop hiding like a little bitch. Be a man and face me."

Dean wasn't surprised when he heard the faint click.

The cell phone skittered across the pavement as Dean released his pent-up rage; a rage that couldn't be contained. And yet, there was nowhere to release it. Defeated again, Dean marched back inside the motel room to see Sam, Ruby, and Castiel huddled together.

As he watched them, dread took root in the pit of his stomach.

"We've decided," Sam declared.

Dean's mouth went dry. "Decided what?"

"That there's only one place left to go."

He nodded. "So, we're going to Bobby's then."


	35. Heavy Artillery

Title: Heavy Artillery

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 985

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Bobby eyed him fiercely from across the table. Dean felt like he was thirteen again. Young, vulnerable, and reckless.

"Idjit."

"I was stupid." Dean hung his head.

"You can say that again. And again. You fell from the frying pan right back into the fire."

Still, Dean was impatient. "Does it say anything more about soul bonds? What are they really?"

"Not good." Bobby cleared his throat. "The basic summation of a soul bond is that Alastair's essence is all tangled up with yours. It gets trapped in your soul somewhere. Obviously, your soul doesn't like that. There are other types of soul bonds, soulmates and the like, but yours isn't beautiful or divine. Eventually, the demon's influence can completely take over. There have even been reports that some poor sonofabitches ended up part demon with black eyes and the whole shebang."

Dean had been there and done that. He had nearly lost himself completely in hell. Bobby may have well given him the diagnosis for a terminal disease. Every hour was like sand through an hourglass. Eventually, Dean would run out of time.

"You certainly made it easier for Alastair. Walked right into his trap with a ribbon around your neck. Damn boy, you should have chained yourself to the bed before sneaking away that night."

"So, what does the book say to do?" The question was casual, but the answer was worth the world to Dean.

"Actually, it advises you to kill the person. Or, as the text reads, 'put them out of their misery.' Obviously, soul bonds weren't a personal case for the author."

Dean nodded. He was beyond shock at this point. Some of the pieces actually fit together now.

"Makes sense. Ruby wants me out of the way anyway."

Bobby leaned in across his battered desk. "What am I missing?"

Dean could always confide in Bobby. "It's Sam. She's too close to him. He trusts her more than me. I swear that she influences him."

"I can't fix that problem, son."

Dean settled back in the chair. As he did so, his stomach gurgled in hunger. His diet left something to be desired lately.

"But, I can fix that problem."

For the next two hours, the three hunters pitched in to prepare dinner. It was an oddly normal affair, especially since Ruby was gone again. Perhaps she had fled on purpose. Bobby didn't exactly take to her either.

"Dinner's ready."

It was almost like old times as Dean sat down in his usual place at the table. He dug his spoon in the golden macaroni and cheese while hoping that the noodles and cheese wouldn't turn into entrails and blood as she chewed.

"There." Bobby sat down. "Stick-to-your-ribs macaroni and cheese, fried chicken, and a homemade strawberry pie for dessert."

"Where did the pie come from, Bobby?" Sam asked.

Dean was thankful that the tide of conversation had at last turned away from him.

"From a...friend. Just a friend of mine." Bobby cleared his throat.

Sam and Dean shared a look. They both knew what that meant. It was a shame that Bobby wasn't in a position to date or meet new people.

"There's pie? Looks like I flew in at the right time."

Someone was here. Dean gasped as he saw the man from the motel walk through the room. He tensed; prepared to attack. Instead, he watched in astonishment as he transformed into a man Dean could swear that he had seen before. It had been years ago on another case before his life had ended up in the toilet. Sam was staring too. Even Castiel seemed amazed.

"Gabriel?"

* * *

The darkness was even threatening to her as she approached their agreed upon destination. Meg had said to meet here, but the she still wasn't around. Ruby wondered if she had been ditched, or worse, being manipulated.

Though the spring weather was getting warmer, it was still cold at night. Her vessel's skin broke out in goosebumps. She should have worn something heavier than her brown suede jacket.

"Hello, Ruby." a low voice greeted.

She whirled around.

It wasn't Meg. Alastair now stood in front of her.

She had been tricked. And now, she was fucked.

"You still haven't done what I asked, Ruby."

Ruby recognized that tone of voice as the calm before the storm. Ever so slightly, she backed away from Alastair.

"Oh. What was that? Dean's within your reach."

He shook his head. "I have another favor to ask."

"Which is?"

The head executioner smiled. "Kill him, dear."

"I can't." Ruby knew her reply was bad idea as soon as the words left her mouth.

Suddenly, Alastair lunged forward and viciously pulled Ruby's hair up. She hissed in pain like a cat. Ruby had once adored cats. They were a witch's best friend after all.

"And why would you disobey a direct order, Ruby?" he drawled in her ear. "Is it because you think you can?"

"Angels are protecting him! One angel never leaves his side! His name is Castiel."

"Ah, yes. Castiel." Alastair frowned. "How irregular."

Ruby knew that he was remembering how Castiel had captured him. Sam should have been the one to kill him that night. If only Sam's power had been stronger. If only he hadn't broken free of the Devil's Trap...

"I can't do it."

"There are other ways. You're crafty enough, I know. Accidents happen. A multitude of ways to ensure that Dean doesn't have a pulse."

All of a sudden, she felt _it_. Something huge, powerful, and pure. Her very being recoiled.

"Not good." Alastair was staring up at the faint stars.

"What?"

"They're sending in the heavy artillery." There was something like pride in his tone. "An archangel is here."

Ruby wasn't sure if she wanted to go back to see who was visiting the Winchesters, but under Lilith's orders, she knew that she had no choice.


	36. Cruel and Unusual Punishment

Title: Cruel and Unusual Punishment

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,077

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

"So, it's the boy with the soul bond."

Gabriel looked Dean up and down, and he didn't enjoy the attention.

"So, who the hell are you again?" Dean asked.

"He's my brother," Castiel broke in. "My _older_ brother. He's been missing for centuries."

Both Dean and Castiel had recovered themselves, but Sam still seemed to be completely floored about this turn of events.

"I thought that you were a trickster. Now, you're an angel?" Sam gaped.

"Archangel, to be exact. Though, you should know all about that, nerd boy. I've been under the pseudonym Loki, trickster god extraordinaire. I didn't want to reveal my wings so soon, but in this case, I decided to make an exception."

Abruptly, Gabriel turned to Dean. Open your mouth."

"_What_?"

This was certainly unexpected.

"Open your mouth," Gabriel repeated.

Even he had to admit that this was getting too freaky. "Cas?" Dean warily called over to his angel.

"Do it, Dean. You can trust him."

Dean snorted and swore under his breath before he grudgingly complied. Gabriel peered down the tunnel that was his throat before making a face.

"Yep, it's there. Your breath smells really foul, man. I don't know how Castiel can stand it."

Dean immediately shut his mouth. He glared at Gabriel.

"Are you deliberately being a dick?

"Easy there, tiger. It's not about your oral hygiene; it's the stench of evil. Seems like it's made a cozy home in you, and that's not surprising. The whiff of a demonic energy is instantaneous revolting to an angel. Obviously."

For an instant, Dean couldn't help but feel ashamed. But, there were bigger things happening now.

"You blew it, kid. Do you know how many souls are dragged out of the pit? Not many. You were one out of millions, Dean. You would think that anyone in your shoes would be more grateful. Less stupid."

Dean slowly began shaking his head. "I didn't know about the bond that night. When I took his hand..."

His voice had cracked and he couldn't finish his sentence. Dean knew that his emotions were being spread too dangerously thin.

"Hey, no waterworks. Yes, and why did you take his hand? I'm beginning to think that hell must have damaged you more than you realize, sport."

"Meaning?"

"_Something_ made you create the bond. _Something_ spurred you to seek him that night. Kicked you right in the gut. That something is holding you back. Do you have any idea what that something is?" It was as if Gabriel was the defense attorney and Dean was the plaintiff.

"No, I don't."

"Can you save Dean?" Sam cut in anxiously.

Gabriel turned to his brother. "You do realize that your brother plays the victim card too much, right?"

"Answer the question! Cas said that we need Alastair's blood."

"So, we get Big Al's blood. Done deal. You expect that to be the end of it, do you?" Gabriel rolled his eyes. "No, something in Dean's coconut is twisted."

"Forget about me," Dean growled. "If there's no bond, then we get to kill the fuck. No more problems for us."

"So quick to resort to violence," Gabriel chided. "What does that say about you?

"Don't talk down to me. I'm a hunter. It's what I do. I didn't exactly have a Hallmark life."

"_Exactly_, kiddo. So, you and that chip on your shoulder are a prime target for the demons in the world. You're your own worst enemy. You always have been."

Bang.

Dean jumped when something heavy slammed with vicious force. It was the front door.

"I think Ruby's home," Sam announced.

"You think?" Dean quipped.

Dean's night was getting better and better. So much for relaxation, a home cooked meal, and sentimental memories.

"Wow. You Winchesters have friends in high places," Ruby sniped when she saw the extra person.

"Not to mention low places, girlfriend." Gabriel winked.

Ruby bared her teeth at the intruder. Dean couldn't decide if she was smiling or not.

"Oh, he's not a friend. Not really," Sam backpedaled. "He just showed up here."

Gabriel frowned until he looked positively pathetic. "Sam, I'm hurt."

However, Dean didn't miss the archangel's sidelong glance at Ruby. He smirked. Finally. Someone else who could see the stupidity. However, Dean knew that he didn't rank much higher.

"Idjits. This is my house you're crashing, so why am I left out of the conversation?" a new voice groused.

All eyes turned to the forgotten Bobby.

"But, you're cool with this right? I'm just here to help."

"Well, don't make a mess while you're doing it." Bobby grumbled before he went quiet.

Dean felt a pang of sympathy for the old hunter. This was all over their heads. And, it was all because of him and a bad decision.

"It's all about personal responsibility, Dean. You didn't have it. But, I think the reason why is something you're meant to figure out yourself."

Dean scowled. He had always had personal responsibility. His father had personally instilled in it. A mistake. The soul bond with Alastair had been a mistake. Then again, Dean expected to be bitched at.

"There may be another way to break the soul bond, but everything would depend on Dean's choices," Gabriel revealed.

"Another way? There's another way?" Castiel echoed.

Gabriel smiled. "We're talking all the way back, Cassie. Back when you were still a cherub. Us big brothers know things that aren't printed in the texts. But, I warn you, that path is rocky. Maybe we're better off blood hunting."

"What is it?"

"It's more like a test, but if you fail it..."

Dean was beside himself. "Tell me about the damned test already!"

Gabriel snapped his fingers. Instantly, Dean's mouth was sealed closed as if fastened by an invisible zipper.

"Later, Dean. I'm in the mood for pie. I shouldn't have even mentioned it."

Mutely, Dean watched Gabriel slice into the delicious fruit pie. What a time for his mouth to be out of order.

"Uh, actually, that pie is for dessert," Ruby flared.

"You're not really in the position to test me, sweetheart."

Ruby shrank back when Gabriel raised his hand.

"At least, let Dean eat." Sam commanded. "Don't be an ass."

"Fine, but no moaning."

With another snap of his fingers, Dean felt his lips loosen. He was beginning to get the feeling that the archangel preferred Sam over him.

"Can we just start on dinner now?" Bobby almost pleaded. "It's getting cold."


	37. A Drastic Step

Title: A Drastic Step

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,164

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

The pie was already gone to Dean's dismay.

Dean had managed to snag a piece along with Bobby, Ruby, and Sam. Gabriel literally inhaled the other half before helping himself to some fried chicken. Unlike Castiel, Gabriel had an appetite.

"So, what's the other way?" Dean finally summoned enough courage to ask.

Gabriel waved his hand. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Personally, I hope that we never come to it. Do you have any symptoms because of your bond?"

Dean looked down at the stained tablecloth. "No."

In fact, ever since they had come here, they had mysteriously tapered off. For the first time, Dean was beginning to wonder if it was truly a good thing.

Gabriel set down his fork. "Then, he's getting closer to you."

"Meaning?" Dean nearly had to choke the word out.

"That's how soul bonds work. Symptoms are less noticeable when the bonder and bondee are in the same vicinity."

"Well then, what the hell should we do?" Dean asked.

"Hide under the table?" Ruby suggested.

"We can't keep running!" Sam declared. "Someone needs to get his blood."

Slowly, all pairs of eyes turned to Gabriel.

"What am I supposed to do? Fly up behind him with a steak knife?" the archangel quipped. "He's only one of the most dangerous beings hell ever spit out."

"But, you're an archangel," Bobby pointed out.

Gabriel's smile was almost charming. "Actually, my brother is the one who smites the legions of hell."

"Good. Then, let's call him," Sam suggested.

"Michael only appears in case of emergency. Like if the world is ending."

"The world _is_ ending in case you haven't noticed!" Sam snapped.

This was the first time Sam had ever truly defended Dean. Was his brother finally coming around?

"He doesn't have his vessel," Gabriel revealed sheepishly.

Dean could have sworn that the archangel's gaze passed over him. He guessed that there were more secrets being hidden at the moment.

"How about we do something instead of arguing with thumbs us our asses?" Bobby bellowed. "So, this big powerful demon is headed here. Now, what? You're the one who reached out to us. Now, help Dean."

Dean really didn't like the way everyone was staring at him. Ruby vigorously picked at her fingernails. Castiel was silent.

Dean swallowed nervously. "I just remembered. I left something in the car."

"What?" Sam seemed ready to jump out of his chair.

"_Something_." Dean was already moving towards the door. "I'll be right back."

Of course, he was lying. Gabriel probably knew it too.

Once outside in the cool damp air, Dean walked under the pine trees to where the Impala was parked. He opened the heavy door before settling himself in the driver's seat. He waited.

As it turned out, he didn't keep him waiting long. Within minutes, the cell phone rang merrily in his pocket. With shaking hands, Dean answered.

"Your motley crew won't protect you forever." the familiar tone greeted him.

"We're ready for you," Dean hissed. "Three hunters and two angels, one of them being an archangel. Try attacking. I dare you."

Dean purposefully didn't count Ruby in the equation; he knew that she didn't give a damn.

Alastair chuckled. It made Dean's skin crawl.

"I'm shivering. We both know that you're just running out the clock, my boy. You know that in the end I'm going to carve you from the inside out."

No one could get his blood if Alastair was several counties away. Then again, Dean was at odds if he wanted the demon _near_ him at all even for his cure.

"However, I can wait patiently. Though, in the end, I promise you'll be the one seeking me out."

Suddenly, the call disconnected. Dean let the cell phone drop onto the passenger seat. It was officially game on. Except, he didn't feel like playing.

Dean knew that everything was written on his face when he walked into the house.

"Is everything okay?" Sam asked.

"Fine. Just needed some fresh air."

"Has Alastair been calling you?"

It was a wild guess. A stab in the dark. Except, Sam couldn't have been more right.

"Yes, Sam. Gee, you must be psychic," he snarked.

"Well, what did he say?"

"Gloating about how I'm running out of time. So, how about you tell me what Plan B is again, Gabe?"

Gabriel sighed. "I warned you, kid. It's not ideal. It could leave you comatose."

"What is it, Gabriel?"

"You go spelunking. In the depths of your subconsciousness." The angel tapped his head.

Dean was confused. He couldn't possibly mean-

"If you're serious, I'm going to have to put you to sleep."

"Asleep?" Bobby's mouth hung open in disbelief.

"You'll have to go right where the soul bond is. The spot on the map where the evil lurks. Where your worst nightmare lives. Sound fun yet? You have to be unconscious to get the gooey details."

Dean was beginning to feel a cold chill. "Can't you snap me out of it if I don't wake up?"

"Let's hope so. You'll have no memory of your present life once you first get down though; you will totally lose yourself in your mind. It's a little like a sci-fi movie script. It's important to remember that none of it is real. Of course, you'll forget that part as soon as you go to sleep..."

"So, let's go. I want to get in as quickly as possible."

"You're serious."

Dean nodded. He was terrified, but this could be his only chance. It sounded a hell of a lot easier than snatching a vial of Alastair's blood.

"What if he never wakes up?" Sam was genuinely concerned.

"He will," Castiel replied out of the blue.

"So, you've done this before?" Dean asked Castiel.

"Mostly to rediscover lost memories but never to unravel a soul bond. I don't have the power."

Gabriel smiled. "So, why don't I lead you over to this comfy sofa. You'll need to be, uh, horizontal."

Legs trembling a bit, Dean stretched out on the battered upholstery. A part of him wished that Cas was doing this.

"So, what am I supposed to do?"

Dean caught Sam's gaze. They both knew that this could be the last time they saw each other.

"Close your eyes and count to three. Ready?"

Dean closed his eyes. "One."

"Good."

"Two..."

"Fantastic."

_Please, let everything be..._

"Three."

"Lights out, Dean."

His vision blackened.

_...okay._

* * *

Dean awoke in the gritty dirt. Cautiously, he moved his hand. The soil was red from iron deposits. From _blood_. In wonderment, he ground some of it between his fingers.

"Where have you been?" an angry familiar voice demanded.

Before Dean could reply, a boot was ground into his bare chest.

"Seems that someone was trying to get away. Here, I thought that you were just getting into the spirit of things."

He looked up. Focused on the being's face. Alastair. Dean was in hell.

He was home.


	38. To Old Friends

Title: To Old Friends

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,171

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

The pain was consuming him; burning him up. And, Dean knew that he deserved it.

Dean wondered how he had gotten away in the first place. Unfortunately, in his position, he wasn't given much of an opportunity to mull it over. Currently, he was paying for his indiscretion with his own red blood.

"I thought that you had left me, and I was _so_ heartbroken."

Another screech of agony escaped his lips as Dean screamed loud and deep for him. He knew that Alastair wanted to hear it. It was an intimate moment when his master scanned his face as he searched for the right level of pain to inflict on his willing servant.

"More?"

Dean managed a nod.

His master, his employer, continued to cut into him until Dean was reduced to gurgling sounds and it felt so...right. For the first time in what seemed like months or years, he began to whimper with relief. Dean's body went limp against the rack.

Alastair chuckled. "You, Dean Winchester, are a sick son of a bitch. You belong here."

Dean knew that he was right. This role fit him better than any other.

As Alastair released him from the rack, the tiniest sliver of a thought told him that he belonged somewhere else. Dean batted it away. _No_. It wasn't possible. He'd been here all this time. There was no escape from this world. However, the suspicion remained.

Experimentally, Dean closed his eyes before opening them again. There. He hadn't gone anywhere. Yet, it was as if there was a static in his head; a mutable quality to his thoughts and sensations. He was on this frequency, but it felt as though he could tune into another.

Unapologetically, Alastair let drop on the ground. Dean knew that he should get down on his knees right now to thank him. After all, he could still be stranded in the death valleys and hollow red wastelands of hell which would be a sorry fate for any soul. What had he been thinking?

As Dean lay there in a heap attempting to collect himself, he glimpsed a strange sight. He saw that his fingers were inches away from a lime green lollipop which was a rather rare sight in the pit. He hadn't seen a lollipop down here in...ever. Demons rarely jonsed for candy; their idea of a treat was a human heart. The longer he stared at it, the more that it reminded him of something. Or someone...

_A man. Brown hair. A fondness for sweets. He was an..._

But, before Dean could move to pick it up, it vanished in front of his eyes.

Oh, well. Perhaps he had been mistaken. Maybe it hadn't been a lollipop at all. It could have simply been a weak creature that had perished because of some internal weakness to maintain its form. Dean had seen sights of creatures, big and small, that would be forever burned into his memory.

Eventually, Dean realized that he was alone. He wondered where Alastair had gone. Without the demon, he had no purpose. He was just another lost damned soul.

Slowly, he crept through the earthen chamber and noticed the bedraggled form of a woman was walking towards him. Dean knew that she had been watching him. Her hair was lank and dull though the remnants of some pricy copper highlights remained. Her eyes were sunken in their sockets. He knew that she was once a sophisticated beauty, but now, she was an ugly hag. Hell had not been kind to her or her haughty pride. Most likely, she too wanted to sink her claws into him. With reluctance, he recognized her.

"Bela."

"Long time no see," she rasped. Her lips curved not without effort into a smile. "What took you so long? I heard you lasted thirty years. How'd you manage?"

She spoke as casually as if she were still walking upon earth. Dean immediately saw through her facade. It was pathetic.

He shrugged. "Sheer stubbornness, I guess."

"Well, Alastair was certainly impressed."

Dean remained silent. What was her point?

"I'll get more powerful," she promised. "Earn my stripes."

Dean felt a pang of pity for her, or he would if he could process emotions. "Yeah...sure."

Bela scowled, and Dean gloated. It felt good to condescend. Here, he had the power. More power than her.

"So, you're like my new idol. Someone I should aspire to be. Pity that Alastair has a preference for men."

Even here, Bela tried to rise through the ranks. Though he doubted that she would succeed. She didn't exactly have a likeable personality. Still as vain and shallow as when she had been in her human skin.

"Dean?" a familiar voice called. "Stop hanging out with your friends. It's time to come home."

Dean's head cocked in the direction his master's voice. Alastair was just up ahead.

With a parting glance at Bela, Dean happily trotted off like the little lapdog he was.

* * *

"How is he?" Sam asked.

Gabriel's smile was surprisingly warm. "He'll be fine, Sam. It's just a nightmare that Dean must awaken from him."

"So is he in...?"

"He just thinks that he is." the archangel replied quickly.

Every so often, Sam caught Ruby looking out the window. Even the demoness was on edge; an event that didn't happen often.

Suddenly, everyone jumped at the sound of a glass bottle slamming against the table.

"I hate standing around here like this," Bobby grumbled sourly. "We should do be doing something useful. Like finding Alastair."

Gabriel smirked. "Only if you want to die before your time. Chill, old dude. Try to relax."

"I'm not in the mood to relax. So, I have no say in this, hmm? I have to watch this in my own house. On my furniture."

"It's actually a safe place," Gabriel attempted to rationalize. "The walls are covered in sigils and there is a nice weapons stockpile here. The location is remote, and that's a bonus of course."

"What if Alastair comes after him anyway?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I'll just zap him out of here."

Finally, Sam dared to ask the question that he had feared to comprehend. They didn't need any more problems tonight.

"What, Ruby? Is there someone coming?"

She turned to him with a frown on her face as if she were being interrogated. "No. Unless you count that raccoon looking for garbage to eat."

Castiel was pacing; an uncharacteristic habit for the angel. Sam wondered if he was worried about Dean, but he decided not to pester him with questions. Instead, he drifted over to where Ruby sat in the armchair to look out the window just as a solemn rain started to tap against the glass. This sudden shower had come out of nowhere.

On the sofa, Dean barely stirred except for his chest rising and falling.

Sam wanted to know what Dean was dreaming inside of his head, or perhaps he didn't.

If only to see what Alastair had done to him.


	39. Stubborn Dreamer

Title: Stubborn Dreamer

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,052

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

The constant pleading was slowly getting to him, but it simply a hazard of being 'on the job' that had to endured.

"No...sir. _Stop_. Please..."

Dean smirked. There was no point in pleading. He'd learned that lesson well during the first decade.

Dean began to lower the steaming hot poker towards the vulnerable flesh below before noticing that there something was very, very wrong.

The poker was gone. In its place, he was now holding a rod of peppermint stick. The iron poker had transformed into candy. He'd definitely never heard of that occurring before. Now, how the hell would he explain that to Alastair?

Someone was sabotaging him. Someone or something was altering his perception. Playing with his mind. Was it Bela? He wouldn't put it past her with her jealously. Maybe she was working some mojo on him through the assistance of a witch.

Something wasn't quite right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Ever since he had woken up here. No. He'd always been here...hadn't he?

Suddenly, Alastair was at his side breathing down his neck. Dean gasped. He wondered where the hell had come from.

"Why are you hesitating? Do it."

Dean well knew the penalty of not holding his end of the bargain. At last, Dean lowered the poker until he heard the telltale sizzle of flesh where he was rewarded by the agonized scream that floated up with the steam. So. He had been mistaken. His instrument was fine after all.

Without even realizing it, he began humming as he worked. He could feel himself begin to cheer up. Life was simple again. He had so missed having a task and a purpose.

Still, that feeling that something was wrong remained.

"_Dean_!"

He looked around. Someone had definitely called his name, but there was no one there.

"Stop getting distracted." Alastair warned fiercely.

Before Dean knew out, he was flat on his back; cast down to the dirt.

"_Dean_."

"Leave me alone," Dean snarled as dust ticked his throat.

The voice stirred a memory deep inside, but he didn't want to remember. And, on top of everything, now Alastair was pissed at him.

"I think that's enough for the day."

And then, everything changed.

Dean was scared stiff when Alastair picked him up in arms. He knew that his weight was nothing to him. As they moved away from the rack, Dean began to relax in comprehension. So. They were only taking a break. It wasn't as if they needed to sleep anymore, but sometimes, Alastair enjoyed rest. Or, more to be more specific, he enjoyed resting with Dean. It's not as if anyone down here could argue against him. Seeking a strange sort of contentment, Dean snuggled against him.

"_Dean? Dean_!"

The familiar voice was driving his insane. Was it his conscience?

Instead, Dean flatted his ear against Alastair so that the sole sound he heard was the rumble of his chest.

"_Dean, come back_!"

"Be quiet," Dean muttered under his breath. He didn't want to hear the voice anymore.

"What is going on with you today? You're so high maintenance."

Dean didn't miss the mocking lilt in his master's voice, but he knew that he was too tired to care. Agitated, he shifted against the demon as an achingly familiar voice continued to taunt him in his head.

"_Come on, Dean, you have to awaken from this_..."

* * *

The look of deep consternation on Gabriel's face finally broke Sam's composure.

Sam got to his feet. "Gabriel, what's wrong?"

"Little demon is fighting me." Sam could tell that the archangel's humor was forced.

"So...that's not good. What the hell is going on in there?"

Gabriel wouldn't meet his gaze.

Sam tried another train of thought. "How long could Dean be like this?"

"Worst case scenario? A few...weeks. Or maybe..."

"Months, right?" Sam ran his hands through his hair "I can't believe I actually agreed to do this."

"Dean agreed to this. Not you." Gabriel's tone was firm.

Bobby looked on disapprovingly with the expression of someone who had lost control of his own house.

Sam flexed his hands with restrained anger. "How can you all just stand there?"

Gabriel spoke slowly and deliberately as if explaining himself to a child. "This is a battle he needs to fight on his own. Only Dean can help himself now. I can only guide."

"Bullshit. He could be in a coma by now."

"He's only been under a couple of hours."

In the already tense atmosphere, a cell phone rang. The sound emanated from Dean's jeans pocket, and Sam knew that his brother's phone numbers weren't well-known. The incoming call could only be from one person...

"Is it-" Bobby started.

Of course.

Sam eyed him fiercely as he reached inside the pocket of Dean's jeans to answer it. He didn't even wait for a greeting when he placed his mouth near the receiver.

"You asshole," he growled. "Stay _away_ from my brother."

"Sam!" Ruby called his name warningly.

He ignored her. Sam wanted to personally speak to the demon that had been tormenting his brother for the past few months.

Sam heard an icy chuckle that set his hairs on end. "Don't you see? He wants to stay with me. I can sense his despair. The depth of his conflict."

"Only because you're the one causing it!"

Alastair sounded amused. "Even before he fell to me, you brother wasn't so innocent. Whatever you're trying will not work. Admit it, Sam. You have your own doubts."

Sam was completely taken aback when the call abruptly ended.

"Fucker." With that, he threw the phone onto the carpet. "And, here we're just letting him win."

Still fueled by rage, Sam ran to unconscious brother and began jostling his shoulder before screaming into his ear. "Dean!"

Castiel rounded on Sam. "Get away from him."

Sam was slightly intimidated by the angel, but not enough to move away.

"You're not helping," Ruby put in.

Now, people were staring at Sam as if he were unhinged and unpredictable. Dangerous. Sam glared at the demoness, and Ruby sheepishly fell back.

"Well...maybe I can help." a timid voice dared.

Sam and the others turned in shock to see Anna standing there. Gabriel quickly recovered with a smile.

"Hey, there. Been a while, little sis."


	40. Love and Loss

Title: Love and Loss

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,185

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

All gazes locked on the angel; an angel that had nearly been forgotten.

"Anna." Castiel frowned.

Bobby's face was slowly turning as red as her hair, and why not? Their immediate surroundings were slowly turning into a madhouse. And, in the middle of it all, Dean was oblivious to everything around him as he remained locked in a part of his brain that no one could hope to decipher. Sam just hoped that their aging father figure wouldn't collapse from all the excitement.

"Why are you here?" Sam slowly approached her. "What can you even do?"

Her eyes remained locked on his sleeping brother. "Dean needs help. It's bad. I could feel it. He's...trapped."

"Yeah, no shit." Sam snapped. "Tell us something we don't know."

Anna's gaze was full of pain as she slowly shook her head. Her profile was as solemn as the angels he had seen in Renaissance stained glass windows. Still, he couldn't help but feel a simmering irrational anger towards this intruder. Anna's sudden worried appearance only served to remind him dire the situation truly was.

_Was she here of her own free will? If not, then who sent her?_

"Anna cannot be involved in this." Castiel blurted out taking everyone by surprise.

At this, Sam was genuinely shocked. The angel had barely said anything up to this point. However, he was inclined to agree.

"Why?" Bobby asked as he crossed his arms.

Castiel frowned fiercely. "She's fallen. An abomination. Accepting her help would be..."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Is the word you're searching for blasphemy? She could actually help in this case. If she can feel Dean's pain, that must mean they're close. They appear to have formed a connection of some sort."

"Another soul bond?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "An _emotional_ connection. Just as well. I barely know the guy personally."

"But, it's wrong. A fallen angel would be an insult." Castiel raised his tone to emphasize his point.

"Uh, Cassie, if the other non-fallen angels had their way, Dean would be _killed_. Trust me on this, brother."

Sam shuddered at the revelation. Gabriel had a habit of being too blunt. Even so, no one could deny that he was right.

"In their eyes, he's also an abomination," Gabriel continued. "So, what's the harm of him gaining some aid from a fellow abomination? We need all the allies that we can get."

Anna remained silent in the storm of confusion panic that had erupted around her entrance to dissolve and for her presence to be accepted. Something what was easy to accomplish. They already knew that they were screwed. All the way up the river without a paddle.

"So...can I try?"

The younger Winchester was still in a state of unease. Sam still wasn't sure. Dean was so vulnerable right now. What if three angels and the influence of a hidden malevolent demon somehow scrambled his neurons?

"Wait."

"Sam, why don't you just sit down? Relax." Gabriel suggested.

Sam watched in frustration as Anna's slim fingers teased Dean's forehead. He wondered what Dean was experiencing. Did he feel pain where he was right now?

"Be careful," he told Anna.

For a fraction of a second, she looked up. "I will."

He would have to believe her. There was nothing he, Bobby, or Ruby could do. Sam forced himself to hold his tongue as Anna smoothed out his brother's hair.

"Dean," she crooned gently in his ear. "Dean..."

* * *

Meanwhile, Alastair and Dean were entangled. They snapped, tore, and rutted against each other like savage wolves in their den. In their home, they did as they pleased. Alastair smirked as Dean prepared to sink beneath him; a beta surrendering to the will of the alpha.

But then...

"_Dean_."

There it was. His name was being called once more. However, this voice was new. Feminine. Nonetheless, it tugged at the right at the spot where his heart used to reside. Dean was helpless as a wave of pure emotion overcame him when the water began to fill his gritty eyes. Even Alastair was forgotten for the moment.

"Mom," he choked out.

No. It wasn't her. It was someone else he knew. A woman with the softest smile and copper flecked eyes. And, he couldn't even remember her name.

"_Dean_."

Was the voice answering him? No, it was just repeating itself.

Behind him, he could feel a burst of...something. Something alive. Inflorescent. A sight that demanded his attention.

Dean managed to turn away from his master and gasped when he saw what was awaiting him. It was a tree. Against all odds, a tree was growing in hell. Impossible, he knew. Yet, it existed.

As he watched in incomprehension, its low branches swayed to him invitingly. The tree stood proudly in front of him; an inviting vision with its perfect fiery autumn leaves of gold, red, and russet. It was almost too perfect to exist let alone be growing here.

Trees weren't exactly native to hell, but who was he to question that fact? He had been having an unusual day anyway. The colors were so rich and vibrant; it was as if the leaves of the tree had been freshly painted onto canvas. Suddenly, he wanted to touch them. To feel their life however fleeting it was. Maybe then, he wouldn't feel so numb...

As he stared at the sight longer and longer, he was ready to cry from sheer joy. Dean hadn't been forgotten after all. There really was a benevolent figure somewhere up above.

"_Dean_..."

Hope alight in his heart, he managed to speak. "I can hear you. Who are you?"

Of course, there was no reply although he could almost recognize the voice. He had heard it before, or he thought he had.

Suddenly, Dean felt lethal well-formed claws grab the scruff of his neck.

"What are you looking at, dear boy?" Alastair hissed. "Whatever it is, it isn't me."

Alastair's touch nearly burned his skin as it branded him with its possession. The owner of that voice was on the tip of his tongue, but he was steadily forgetting it.

In spite of Alastair, Dean's eyes dared to wander back to the tree, and he was alarmed to see that it was starting to shrivel and blacken. He watched in anguish as its glorious leaves released themselves from their moorings and floated to the cracked sulfurous ground one by one. It was dying. The tree, _his_ tree, was dying.

"No," Dean whispered as his eyes widened. Apparently, his glimpse of paradise was too good to last.

"_Dean_."

There was no mistaking it now. Someone was reaching out to him. He gasped as a new voice, a male voice this time, called his name.

Breaking through the prison of apathy that had formed around his heart, Dean threw his head back and howled in frustration. He wondered if this indeed a new method of torturing him that Alastair had invented which entailed giving him hope and then destroying it.

"_Dean_?"

Dean shivered as he heard his name once more. He wished that the voice would leave him be.


	41. Sudden Development

Title: Sudden Development

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,301

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Dean wondered if anyone could hear him in the depths of his misery as he despaired over the dead tree. Already, the two beings that truly didn't belong down here possessed an unspoken kinship; they were both broken.

"_Dean_," the voice repeated.

And so their game continued.

As the minutes wore on, the voices grew more insistent. If this kept up, Dean was going to get driven insane right here and now and Alastair would lose his opportunity. As usual, it appeared there would be no mercy for him today. Typical.

"Dean!" he heard Alastair hiss at him. "Come back to bed, boy."

Dean turned to glimpse a shadow unfurling against the landscape that radiated a rather menacing aura. He nearly cried out in fear at the sight as he became all too painfully aware of the sensation of his soul being violently pulled in two directions.

Hastily choosing his path, Dean literally crawled towards the direction of the tree on his hands and knees in a final effort to get away the demon. All he wanted to do was cling to its trunk and never let go, even if he still didn't know if the voice belonged to his saviors or more tormentors. He wanted to be near the best damned thing that ever happened to him down here.

"_Dean, look_!"

The voice was so sudden and loud that he automatically obeyed and looked up. His fear instantly dissolved when he witnessed that the tree starting to regrow. A stray tear shot down his cheek as he watched glossy black leaves that resembled pieces of night begin adorning its bare branches. So. The tree was magical. It wasn't a theory anymore. More likely than not, that's also where the voices were coming from.

He watched as the knife-sharp edges of the leaves quiver in an unseen breeze after they had finished materializing. It was beautiful as before. Perhaps more beautiful. Somehow, it reminded Dean of that quiet moment before twilight when everything was still and the stars were just beginning to appear. The tree's new ebony leaves resembled something. Something small and fragile...

Following a sudden urge, Dean closed his eyes, and listened for some sort of guidance.

"What do you want me to do?" he tested the voices.

In answer, Dean received was a vision of his former life. He gasped as a flash of memory reignited in his mind when he saw his body lying on a sofa in what he identified as Bobby's house. _Of course_, he was still alive. How could he have forgotten? This hell was a fabrication; a nightmare that he was trapped in. Well, he was more than ready to wake up now. He needed to wake up.

Dean closed his eyes, and he prayed that he would wake up in his own body in his own life when he opened them. Instead, he found that he was still stranded under the solitary tree. However, Dean was determined not to give up yet. He had the benefit of knowledge about lore, so he could speculate that the tree could very well be an entrance to another world, maybe a way back to his own world.

But...what was the trick to opening it?

Out of the blue, he remembered something else, or rather, someone else. A name. A name that conjured an image of a beige trench coat, a tie, and blue eyes. _Castiel_.

"Cas? Are you here?" Dean called warily.

There was no reply as banks of rolling white clouds he hadn't even noticed before began to drift around him until he was literally swallowed by them. Now, Dean was literally lost in the fog of his own subconsciousness. He knew that he was in the process of being screwed. What if he never got out of here? It wasn't as if anyone had left him any directions.

So, Dean said the first words he could think of. "Help me."

Dean watched in disbelief as the tree suddenly glowed white and changed into a very familiar shape.

"Dad?" Dean couldn't stop his lips from trembling.

His father. The tree had transformed into his father.

Immediately, Dean began asking questions. He was nearing the end of his rope, and he had a rope that was quite long.

"How did you get here? What are you doing here? How do I get out of here?"

As usual, John Winchester's face was somber. "Dean, listen to what I say. This is important..."

Dean never heard the rest of it as the world went black and faded away.

* * *

Dean groaned and forced himself to sit up. When he opened his eyes, he was pleased that he had managed to awaken in his own body. _Finally_. Then, he noticed the wary faces above him.

Dean's grin was genuine as he greeted them. "Hey."

He watched with delight eyes as Sam's eyes lit up. "Dean!"

Sam reached down and embraced him. Dean hugged back.

"It's good to hear your voice," Dean confessed.

"Yeah. You too."

At last, they broke apart.

"How long was I out?"

Sam visibly grew uneasy. He ran his hand through hair. "All night."

_All night_. The late morning sun glowing against the curtains was a testament to that.

_Worried. They were worried about me._

"So, what did you see?" Already, Sam was in research mode.

Dean shook his head. "Things you wouldn't believe."

The memories weren't as clear as they were when he had first awoken. But, now he knew who those voices were.

Dean pointed a finger at Gabriel. "I remember that _you_ wouldn't leave me alone. Did you leave those pieces of candy?"

Gabriel beamed. "Yep."

Dean nodded. "Thanks for trying to pull me out. Anna."

The redhead standing by herself smiled in answer. Dean wondered when she had flown in, but let it slide. The situation was too dire to worry about that right now.

"You've done this before," he continued. It wasn't an accusation.

Gabriel nodded. "Yes, but not in a while."

"Did you see and hear what you needed?" Anna asked.

"I don't know. Is my soul bond gone?" Dean asked with guarded optimism in the event that his hopes would be crushed again.

As usual, Dean wasn't disappointed.

"Not exactly, but it should be weakened," came Gabriel's hesitant reply after a long moment.

"Oh." Dean couldn't conceal the disappointment in his voice.

He couldn't help but notice that everyone except the angels seemed unfocused and drawn with fatigue.

"Didn't anyone sleep?" he asked casually.

"No. And you say no one cares about you."

Dean felt like smiling again. For once, he was happy to hear his brother's teasing. Never again did he want to go through that or put Sam through that again either. Even the gnaw of hunger in his stomach was welcome. Dean wanted a real breakfast for once that included bacon, egg and toast. Still, he knew wasn't in the clear yet. Alastair was still out there. Hunting for him.

Somewhere in the background, Dean was beginning to notice how intently Castiel watching him, but it was Sam who got the attention of the room. His audience.

"Dean!"

Immediately, Dean panicked. He knew that this sudden positive turn of events was too good to be true. "What's wrong?"

"Your eyes."

Now, everyone was staring at him.

"What's wrong with my eyes?" Dean dreaded to hear the answer.

"They're..." Sam was at a loss for words.

Even Bobby seemed unsettled when he finally tore his gaze away from Dean.

"Well, Dean. You finally look like family." Ruby smirked.

_She couldn't mean..._

Unwillingly, Dean was forced to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Sam? What color are my eyes right now?"

Sam remained silent.

"What _color_!?"

"I think that we may have a problem," Castiel stated.


	42. Territorial

Title: Territorial

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,214

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Without waiting for further explanation, Dean ran into the bathroom so that he could confirm for himself what the hell color his eyes were _now_. He hated the look on Sam's face. It was as if he had seen a monster. Given the circumstances, Dean couldn't blame him.

Breath coming too fast, too hard, he bent down over the sink and stared right into his damned soul. The eyes that reflected back in the mirror were green; the same eye color he'd had all his life. Everything seemed so innocent on the surface, but he had to look deeper until he was absolutely sure as to what he had guessed transpired. Unflinchingly, he stared into them. He was sure the exact moment when they betrayed themselves would come sooner rather than later.

"Come on," he whispered to his own reflection. "Come on, you bastard..."

Dean was talking to his own reflection. But, he already knew that he was going way past crazy.

For a moment, something caught for a sliver of an instant; a speck of dark hidden beneath the surface. Dean focused and mentally pulled at it in a manner no different from extracting a bothersome splinter lodged in his skin.

_There_.

For no reason, he watched as his eyes filmed over to black. Dean jerked back as if stabbed with a knife. So. Instead of discovering a cure, now he had more problems than he possessed to begin with. It seemed as if help had arrived too late. He'd been infected.

To his surprise, he didn't scream or cry. He didn't shatter the glass of the mirror. Not even bothering to wait for his eyes to return to normal, or if they returned to normal, he rather calmly exited the bathroom. The damage was already done after all.

Dean's footsteps were heavy on the battered carpet; stark evidence of the life that was weighing him down. When he walked into the room, Bobby was drinking a beer, Sam was sitting down next to Anna, and it appeared that Castiel was deep in conversation with Gabriel. Ruby skulked around the edges of the furniture. His team. Team Dean.

All heads rose when they heard his reentry.

"Explain," Dean immediately ordered the archangel. "Now."

Gabriel sighed. "As far as I can tell, there appears to be side effects."

_No shit_.

Dean kept his tone conversational. He found that people were more willing to respond when he remained polite. "Did you know about them?"

Gabriel hesitantly smiled. "I was hoping that we would be lucky?"

"So, tell me. Why are my fucking eyes _black_?" Dean nearly yelled.

"My eyes are black." Ruby sniffed. "Well, sometimes."

Dean glared at the demoness.

"You're a demon." His gaze shifted back to Gabriel as he dared to disclose his worst fear. "Am I becoming a demon too?"

"You shouldn't be. You're still a human being. I would tell you if you were."

Still, Dean didn't feel that everything was peachy. Something was wrong. Somehow, he felt too exposed. It was as if a part of him that was supposed to be buried deep was now on full display. Dean didn't know what to believe in anymore. He didn't know who to believe in anymore.

"If worse comes to worst, you could always wear sunglasses," Gabriel offered.

Dean was getting annoyed at how casual he was about this.

"Or, you can put me under again. Fix this sideshow."

"Easy, tiger. It was dangerous being in your head the first time. Remember? We could do worse damage than we already have."

Dean was speechless. So, that was it. This was all he could do.

He then took a moment to recollect all the spells he had read in his life. All the incantations. All the ingredients. There had to be one to undo the damage in his head, but apparently there wasn't.

"So, how long will I be l be screwed up this time?" Dean asked matter-of-factly.

"Positive, Dean. Think positive."

Dean didn't want to think if this was the real him finally coming out at last. It was almost like all the traumas he had endured in hell were finally leaking out. Had he become a demon in hell? He couldn't remember. Dean wondered how much longer the others could honestly stand his presence.

Even now, no one could or would sympathize with him. It was still cold and lonely where Dean stood.

"Why don't you share what you experienced?" Gabriel suggested.

Dean would have groaned if he could have gotten away with it. This was the last thing Dean needed. Group therapy.

Then, he remembered that confession was good for the soul. Maybe he should confess while he had one.

With little choice and nothing else to do, Dean told them about what he occurred and who he had encountered while leaving out the more sordid details. Maybe some piece of information that he revealed could help him. And, it was a good way to kill time.

"How did the voices get through? How did you make contact?" Gabriel asked.

"There was a tree."

Gabriel nodded. "Okay. For you, it was a tree."

Dean was intrigued. "What do you mean? There are other things that you can see?"

"Some see a shoreline or a field of their favorite flowers. Roses are popular. Even a mountainside."

Dean also remembered that his father had been there. Hell, he had _been_ the tree. More symbolism to decipher. But, what had he wanted to tell him? But, Dean wasn't ready to tell them that. He couldn't even remember what his old man had said.

However, he noticed that the more he talked, the more Dean could feel a slow headache building. Dean was actually more tired than anything else. He wanted more sleep as improbable as it was. Out of the corner of his vision, Dean noticed how intently Castiel was watching him. Suddenly, he wanted to talk to him alone.

But, Dean's attention was stolen by the little gasp that came from Anna. She bolted upright in her seat.

"Anna, what's wrong?" Sam asked.

"They found me." Anna whispered; her face white as ash.

* * *

Meg sat there on the edge of the twin bed while absently tapping her foot against the floor. It was an awkward moment. Her guest had fallen asleep. Except for one problem: demons didn't sleep. It wasn't a necessity in any case.

She jumped as the crumpled form stretched out behind her stirred before opening its eyes.

"Well, that was certainly refreshing," Alastair rasped.

Meg was instantly wary. He had awoken. At least he wasn't dead.

"So, he seeks to challenge me."

_He_. The Winchester shit.

"No matter," Alastair laughed. "I'll give him hope, and he'll fall deeper. I know him better than his own brother. His mother."

However, Meg privately wondered if Alastair should just let him go. There were more pressing matters to think about such as the impending apocalypse. But, Meg already knew that her opinion didn't matter; Alastair would pursue him to the ends of the earth anyway. No doubt about it. Meg knew that if this situation continued, it wasn't going to end well for anyone even for herself.

Sometimes she wondered why her boss had to be such a territorial bastard.


	43. Out of Control

Title: Out of Control

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,237

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

"Who's here?" Sam pressed.

Anna nervously licked her lips "Angels. They've found me. Already."

It was the pure horror in her expression that convinced Dean that Anna was in real trouble, Unfortunately, Dean wasn't in the position to be no one's hero. As it turned out, he didn't have to play one.

Gabriel was instantly on his feet. "Well, the jig is up. Sooner than I expected too. They know about us for sure now. Time to go, little sister."

"So, they're after you too. Why?" Sam ventured.

Leave it to Sam to start questioning the credibility of his to-be savior.

"Let's just say that I don't get along well with my family." Gabriel shrugged.

"Wait!" Sam blurted out. "You just tinkered with Dean's wiring, and now you're leaving?"

Dean would have laughed if he could have managed to. So, that's what he had been reduced to: a robot without a soul. Dean wondered what his eyes were doing now and wondered when someone was going to finally admit to him that he had the equivalent of demonic cancer rotting the very core of his being. On top of everything, he was getting very thirsty. Then again, Alastair had always said that his body in particular had been disobedient.

"Might as well. There's nothing more I can do."

Dean was getting irritated. Luckily, before he could open mouth, Gabriel volunteered more information.

"However, I will give you a place to start. If you want to help Dean, Sam, you have to find the root cause. Or, rather, Dean has to find the root cause."

"The root cause? Of what?" Sam echoed.

Dean dreaded to know what had to discover now. He wondered how much more he could handle before both his body and mind joined forces and rebelled against him.

"The root cause of his trauma. Alastair will be able to manipulate until he does. Until emo boy deals with his baggage, he may be nuts for a while. Only Dean can know his triggers. Remember that it's his fight and no one else's. Still, you could provide support."

The archangel displayed a charming smile that Dean suddenly wanted to slap off his face.

"I'll be in touch."

Dean wondered if Gabriel would even bother keeping his promise.

"Anna." In the hope for any sort of comprehension, Dean turned to her.

Anna seemed genuinely solemn "I have to leave. I can't put anyone in danger. Especially you, Dean."

Dean thought that he heard Ruby murmur something under her breath. He ignored it.

Dean hated to admit that Anna was right. If Uriel and the garrison blew through Bobby's front door, they would not be happy right now. Uriel would glimpse Dean's black eyes and smite him on the spot, and for once, Dean couldn't blame him.

And, would he be happy? Would he smile as he was finally released from his anxiety?

_Yes_. He would. If only for a short while.

All he could do now was watch the two angels vanish in front of his eyes.

As usual, he had been abandoned. Again. Sometimes, he wondered if it would be better to let a have his prize. And just when Dean thought that his life was going to get better. Easy come, easy go.

Dean was still so tired, and yet he had to focus on the shithole that was his life. More than anything, Dean wanted to drop back off back to sleep as illogical as it was.

When Dean got up from the sofa, he could feel four pairs of eyes trailing him. He grunted and walked over to the refrigerator in the hopes of retrieving a beer. Dean was relieved to see that it was well stocked. As usual, Bobby didn't disappoint.

Dean savored the satisfying pop of the bronze can as he opened it. Immediately, he began to chug it. However, even that couldn't prevent him from hearing her voice.

"This is bad, Sam. It's all going downhill from here. It's hopeless."

"Ruby..."

"Aren't you sick of it already?" Ruby snapped. "For weeks, it's been all about Dean, Dean, Dean. You have problems too, Sam. The world has problems. The apocalypse comes to mind here. Dean is becoming a liability. Maybe he isn't meant to be saved."

"I can hear you in there, you know!" Dean snarled. His rage was starting to boil over.

Like that snide demon bitch cared.

"He's my brother, Ruby. We can't give up on him. We help him, we help ourselves."

Dean's hand was already on the verge of crushing the beer can before he hurled it against the wall. Sam gasped and Bobby's face was bright red. Dean knew that he should be ashamed how he was acting in his surrogate father's home.

"See?" Ruby pointed. "He's already irrational. What happens when Alastair gets his hooks into his boy, and Dean betrays us?"

Dean didn't want to admit that he harbored that fear himself. But, unfortunately for Ruby, it was too late. Dean had already had hooks, barbed wire, and whole razor blades inside him.

"Sam, tell your friend to stuff it!" Bobby warned. "It's getting a little too heated in here."

Dean didn't care. He couldn't keep the resentment at bay this time. It literally burned his guts. His adreniline was on overdrive, and his body wanted to fight.

"Stop that now." Castiel ordered sternly as he drifted over.

Dean had to stop and wonder if the angel had ever raised his voice before. He hadn't.

"Come with me."

Dean hesitated before he complied. He realized that he had come to trust him nearly as much as his brother.

Dean allowed him to lead him outside where the scent of the pine trees was potent on the cool breeze. As Dean breathed the aroma in, it reminded of all the times he and Sam had went camping when they were kids.

"Why did you throw me out?" Dean's fists were already clenching in anger.

Castiel had taken him away; a naughty child whisked away from the adults.

"Ruby was upsetting you. You were getting out of control."

_Now_. He was alone with Castiel, and he at last had an opportunity to get some answers. Dean didn't waste a breath.

"What did Gabriel to me?" Dean demanded. "Why do I feel like shit?"

"This disorientation that you are feeling now is a side effect from Gabriel's angelic grace. Your soul bond is rejecting it. Hopefully, your body will find a new balance."

Dean already knew that Castiel wasn't talking about brain chemicals or hormones; it was something deeper than that. But, he wasn't sure if the mechanics of his brain could handle it.

"Also, we must not kill Alastair.'

Dean could swear that he could feel his heart stop. "Why the hell not?"

"If you slay a demon with a soul bond, the one who created it will perish along with him."

Dean waited for the news to sink in like a bank of cold fog.

"When the hell were you going to say something?"

"Eventually." The angel turned away from him.

God only knew how he was going to beat this. Yet, Dean was distracted by how his angel intently watching the woods. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

"What?" Dean asked when he couldn't stand it any longer.

Castiel's expression was grave when he faced him.

"There are demons in this area."


	44. No One Has To Know

Title: No One Has To Know

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,637

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Dean blinked once. He wasn't sure if he heard him correctly, but the words had already sent his body into panic mode. He knew that Castiel wouldn't dare lie. Not about something as serious as this.

So, somewhere beyond that strip of trees, God knew how many demons were mobilizing. Dean already knew what their sole purpose was: to take him away. He could imagine all too clearly them silently surrounding them; gleefully taking their time. Dean could feel the shame steadily building at being caught unaware.

Two angels suddenly suddenly leaving was a bad sign they all should have taken more seriously. He and Sammy should have been long gone by now. Now, Bobby was involved.

_Bobby_.

They needed to warn Sam and Bobby. Their lives were in danger. His life was in danger. In spire of this, Dean's feet remained rooted to the ground. He wasn't ready to leave just yet. Maybe if he didn't acknowledge the reality of the situation, it would disappear. It was so...unfair, and, Dean still wasn't prepared.

Hours ago, he remembered how he had marveled at the wonder of the tree. However, that was something his overtaxed subconscious had spit out. This was real life. As he uselessly reminisced, Dean's very skin was beginning to prickle in warning. He glanced behind him for a sliver of a second as if expecting Alastair to materialize before dragging him back to the pit kicking and screaming.

_No_. Nothing bad would happen while Castiel was here. Dean knew that he would be protected as long as the angel stayed near...

Then, somewhere near the corner of his vision, he noticed Castiel abruptly walking away.

"Where are you going?" Dean demanded as alarm crept into his voice.

"I must to give chase," Castiel replied in a clipped formal manner. "The demons are most likely formulating a plan to attack us."

Dean was surprised to find out how against the idea he was. He didn't want Castiel to him to fight for him; he wanted him to stay and protect everyone. Dean restrained himself from grabbing the beige fabric of the trench coat to tug him back.

"Maybe I should go too," he suggested.

"No. You are the target. It's safer for here."

Dean let his hand fall. Who was he kidding? Castiel didn't need him. It went without saying that, now, he was the weakest of them _all_.

"I will return," the angel promised although his faint smile didn't reach his eyes.

Regardless, Dean could feel his vocal cords spasm again. He wasn't finished. But, before he could plead his case again, Cas vanished in front of his eyes.

Anxiously, Dean stared off into the woods. A gust of wind buffeted his leather jacket as dark as threatening storm clouds neared. He hadn't even noticed them roll in. Deep within his gut, he knew that it was a warning. An omen. For _him_.

He knew that he couldn't wait any longer. Dean had to warn the others. Whatever trauma that remained inside him would have to be suppressed for the time being.

When he walked into the living room, all heads automatically turned in his direction. Dean wondered if what gave him away was the look on his face.

"Dean?" Sam jogged over. "What is it?"

Dean gave him the short answer. "We're fucked."

"Why?"

"Look around outside, why don't you? In case you haven't noticed, we've got some company on the way."

Sam glanced out the window. He paled.

"Where's Cas?" Sam's eyes scanned the room.

"Gone."

"Ah. Why?"

Dean shrugged.

"Maybe it's because of all demons gathering in the woods."

"Don't kid, boy," Bobby warned.

Dean wasn't kidding. Far from have got to get out of here

"Balls," Bobby grumbled.

For a long stretch of time, the only sound in the room were bullets being loaded into the barrels of hunting rifles. Irritation mounting inside him, Dean was beginning to think that was all a little too convenient.

'Ruby." Dean hissed

"What?"

"You know something about this," he accused.

"Uh, no, I really don't."

Dean didn't know at what point he had grabbed her by the shoulders.

"We're surrounded by demons, and you mean you couldn't even give us a _warning_?"

Ruby seemed genuinely affronted. "Hello? I've been here the whole time. Not out and about. Unfortunately."

Her reply was logical, but it wasn't good enough. Somehow, she was involved in this. He wondered who she was really working for. Though Ruby had a preference for Sam, Dean was sure that whatever happened to he himself was irrelevant. He was just excess baggage.

"It's true, Dean."

Before Dean could say more, he nearly gasped as he felt a familiar heat rush through his body. He winced as it spread throughout his shoulder blades and settled into his muscles. It dawned on him that he hadn't had a spot of decent violence in quite a while, and he was surprised to find how much his body craved it.

With Ruby forgotten, Dean curiously watched the door.

Maybe this would be amusing excursion after all.

* * *

Castiel walked deeper into the woods. The scent of demons still remained, but it was growing ever fainter. A reasonable explanation for this is that they were purposefully edging away from him as he neared.

Castiel was assured that he was alone until he heard a tell tale twig snap. He froze. Someone was approaching him. In moments, Castiel held the angel blade at his side. Then, in one seamless motion, he threw his stalker up against a tree trunk.

"Woah! Easy."

He saw that he had captured what appeared to be a dark haired woman. An abomination.

"Who are you?"

"Introductions? Hi, my name is Meg," she said sweetly with a smile. "I can give you information."

Castiel wasn't fooled. He knew that his father's fallen creations could only deceive.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing. I can smite you right now."

"I know," the demoness admitted. "Gee, I've always suspected 'fluffy' and 'cute' were just labels."

He stared right onto her eyes.

"Leave Dean alone." It wasn't a suggestion.

"Uh, that's not my call. But, you can take it up with my boss."

"Is Alastair here?" Castiel dared to take his eyes off of her to scan the area.

"As if I'd tell you." she sniffed.

Castiel's gaze darkened. Haughtiness was a dangerous quality for a hell spawn.

Still, Castiel pondered what his next action should be. He could interrogate her further or leave to return to Dean.

Meg rested her head against the tree trunk and sighed.

* * *

Casually, Dean suggested that they split up. Sam and Bobby was against the idea at first, but they eventually relented. It was far more efficient and safer for everyone.

Alone now, Dean took the back of the house. The rooms were dark as he crept down the hall with Ruby's knife gripped in his hand. Dean hated to admit that there was a palpable sense of foreboding that something was going to happen. _Soon_.

His heartbeat pulsed in the hollow of his throat when he heard the soft crash accompanied by a tinkle of glass. So. The house were being ambushed sooner than later.

Rather than warn the others this time, he hurried towards the staircase to deal with the problem himself just in time to see the intruders. He counted two, but he had no idea how many more were on the way. Rather than charge them right away, he waited.

The two noticed him immediately. Slowly, the taller one approached him while his partner remained where he was.

"Dean Winchester." The advancing minion bowed at the waist. "It's a pleasure to meet you. You're a big score in case you didn't know. You don't even know how much you're worth. Daddy wants you to come home by the way."

Inwardly, Dean shivered. He wondered if he met them in the pit or perhaps even had a part in creating them. The notion unnerved him more than he would admit

Dean took a moment to steady himself. That's not who he was anymore.

"If you want to, you can come home with us. Here's a chance for an easy way out. No one has to know." With a smirk, the demon held out his hand.

He was tempting him. Testing him. Yet, he was wrong. Dean would know.

The hunter smiled. "I think I'll pass."

"You're not even a little bit tempted?" he taunted. "You can tell us."

Dean knew what he was trying to do: get into his head. However, the grunt was failing poorly.

Dean smiled as sharp as a blade. "You're not my psychiatrist."

However, they both knew what he really meant. He wasn't_ him_. No one was _him_.

Dean watched as black eyes widened when he plunged his knife into the being. Hungrily, Dean watched the borrowed life drain away. Then, with more strength and speed than he knew that he had possessed, he moved on to his partner.

"Dean!"

Sam and Bobby were at Dean's heels.

The second body hit the floor, and Dean casually looked over his shoulder at them.

"You missed the show."

Both hunters took a step back. Dean already guessed that his eyes were black, and he didn't care.

Sam frowned. "That wasn't a show, Dean."

Dean wondered what show he was referring to. Hastily, he averted his gaze from Sam's own.

"Now, I have to fix that window," Bobby commented offhandedly.

Dean stared at the blood on the knife and watched it shake in his hand. Dean had _enjoyed_ cutting down the two hunch men. He'd taken pleasure in the task. He wondered what he was becoming.

_A killer. Like him. Daddy's star pupil.  
_

At the revelation, Dean let the knife clatter on the floor.


	45. Entrapment

Title: Entrapment

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,472

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

Alastair's smile could be glimpsed in the darkness if anyone dared to look.

He honestly wondered how his Deano was faring. Alastair was especially interested in learning how close to the brink the righteous man was to losing his mind.

All these weeks, he had been kind enough to let him think that he was safe. That he was getting away. _Now_, he wanted to make his presence known. Soon, he would threw everything but the kitchen sink at him. And, Alastair couldn't wait to see Dean's reaction. He was genuinely interested to see how much he could take.

But, he knew there would be no harm done. It was all a test after all, and so far, Dean had passed all his other ones. Alastair was as relentless as ever in his quest for the perfect student, and It went without saying that Dean was his best candidate yet.

Dean was by far the most beautiful in his weakest moments; it was just a shame he couldn't appreciate it.

Why, Dean could find him in this very forest if he wanted to. From day one, it had been his choice as it had always been his choice as it would always be his choice

Even so, Alastair wouldn't give up on him. He could only guess that Dean was simply too shy to ask for what he desired. He was being stubborn.

But, that was all right. Alastair already knew that there were other means to make rigid iron bend.

Alastair chose to smile at the memories, and the starlight shone white against his teeth.

Oh, when would his boy see there was simply no other way?

* * *

The world seemed to stop rotating for a moment as the room grew deathly quiet. All Dean could hear was his breath as he concentrated on the movements of his chest rising and falling for his very sanity. A bead of sweat ran down neck, and he couldn't even bear to raise his hand to wipe it away. It dripped on the floor where it would never be seen again. As if it had never existed in the first place.

Sam was saying something, but Dean could barely make out the words. He had been so startled that he had let his weapon drop. Dean could only imagine how disappointed his father would be with him now. He'd broken one of the first cardinal rules after all: never drop your weapon. However, this fact wasn't surprising. Dean was a screw up after all.

For a moment, he could swear that he could almost hear his father's voice...

"_What did you drop it for? Pick it up, coward_."

Later, Dean had to wonder at what point his father's voice morphed into Alastair's.

"_Pick up the knife, Dean. Brandish it. Like we practiced_."

Sick of it all, Dean shook his head. He already knew that his self-hatred was overwhelming, but the voices in his head were only making it worse. Apparently, his psyche was still hovering on self-destruct mode.

Indeed, with each passing day, Dean felt as if he was sinking deeper and deeper into a hole. Even if he managed to claw himself out again, he didn't know if he would truly be left unscathed. Dean wondered if and when the hour would come when it would be too late to save him.

"_Dean_!"

Slowly, it dawned on him that someone was calling his name. That someone was was shouting directly into his ear. He blinked as the features of his brother suddenly came into focus when he was forcibly pulled out of his thoughts .

Suddenly, Dean was struck with a pang of guilt. He knew that he was being selfish. He really didn't want Sammy to worry anymore. However, he knew that he couldn't help himself worth a damn.

Still, no matter the cost, nothing was more important than _surviving_. He_ had_ to survive this. Or else, there would be nothing left of his life. All of his fighting would have been a waste.

"Where did you go?" Sam demanded.

Dean was genuinely confused. "I didn't go anywhere, I've been here."

Sam was shaking his head as if he were seriously debating that.

With a sigh, Dean unwillingly bent down. The knife brushed against his fingertips as he reached for it. He knew that his face was raw and twisted with emotion so he deliberately averted it from Sam's eyes.

As Dean straightened, he happened to looked up and was relieved to find Castiel standing there. He was all right. He was alive. Then, it slowly began to dawn on him that Cas wasn't alone. There was a dark haired woman by his side. Without pondering too much, Dean found that he remembered who she was, but couldn't pinpoint a single reason as to her purpose for being here. Not any good reason, anyway.

Warily, he held the knife closer at his side. It didn't take too long for her gaze to find his.

She looked right into his eyes. "My, my an upgrade," Meg commented snidely.

"Shut up." Dean snarled. The words burned up his throat.

"Can you fight it?" she asked innocently.

Dean resolutely shut his mouth. _No_. He couldn't fight it. But, he was just too proud to admit it.

As an afterthought, Dean wondered how long his eyes _would_ be fucked up or why they were fucked up.

"Can't help but say I enjoy seeing you, Meg." Dean's voice was low and cool as reluctantly addressed her.

Dean could feel Meg watching him. He wondered how much longer he could ignore that conspirational stare. His head was still a mess, and he wasn't in the mood for games.

"We should interrogate her so that we may discover where he is," Castiel replied without missing a beat. "Alastair's location is paramount. "

Dean could already see where this was heading. They were considering using him to torture. _Again_. How fortunate Dean had been trained in a school that he never wanted to graduate from. Small wonder he had never gotten better.

But, what did it matter in the end? More torture, more blood, more pain. He knew was already damaged beyond repair.

Dean forced himself to watch Meg's lips curved into a sick knowing smirk. She _knew_. She knew the carnage he could create. She knew that he had enjoyed it. She had glimpsed the monster beneath his skin. Now, Dean knew that it had never left.

"If you know what I'm capable of, you had better start talking," he warned her.

"You would like that, wouldn't you Dean?" she purred.

And, just like that, he was just entrapped by his own words.

_Bitch_. She was purposefully baiting him.

Dean was getting angry. He could feel the emotion blistering his insides. Even she knew that she shouldn't be here. If she was standing here in Bobby's house, her boss couldn't be far away.

"Are you frightened Dean?" she asked.

He was. Except, it wasn't the thing that she wanted him to be frightened of. Or perhaps it was.

Dean didn't want _anyone_ to know their history. He knew that she could tell stories about him that could hardly be believed. No one was more acutely aware than himself to know how far he had really fallen.

In disgust, Dean turned his face to hide the guilt gathering there. In the process, he caught Castiel's gaze.

Castiel had seen the monster. He was aware of it, and yet he still believed in him. He was still a source of comfort. Dean searched the angel's eyes and detected sympathy in their cerulean depths.

_Yes_. Dean would get through this. He would force himself to.

So absorbed in his conviction, Dean was completely unprepared for the ache in his arm. He quickly rubbed it away. Somehow, Dean wasn't surprised when it returned. It wasn't long until the dull discomfort turned into agony almost like a keen razor slicing through his flesh. But, no matter how intently looked at his forearm, he could glimpse no injury.

Dean finally grunted in pain. Yes, something was definitely wrong.

It wasn't long until Dean felt a searching hand paw at his back. He automatically hunched his shoulders protectively.

"Dean?" Sam was at his side again.

"I'm okay," he replied feebly.

Of course, this was a lie. Nothing was further than the truth.

_What the hell was going on?_

* * *

Alastair watched hungrily as the blood dripped down his arm. Somewhere, an owl hooted.

From miles away, he knew that Dean would feel the same pain. It was all a part of the beauty of the bond they shared between them. Of course, their perceptions about it would be different.

And, if luck was on his side, Dean might even come out of hiding to seek out the source.


	46. Pawn

Title: Pawn

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,531

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

The hours that followed were a blur, and Dean knew that he had lost track of time. He he had to force himself to become more alert lest he miss something important. His very survival depended on it.

All he had to do was forget about the fact that his former mentor from hell wanted to kill him and drag him back while preferably kicking and screaming. If he could just accomplish that, he would be fine.

All Dean knew for sure was that the demoness had been subdued. Meg was trussed up, and she wasn't going anywhere. However, Dean was sure that she wouldn't reveal information without a fight, and that no matter how ever helpless she seemed, she was sure to have something up her sleeve.

Why did Castiel even bring her? For once, even Dean had to question the angel's judgement. Did he think this would be easy?

With nothing that could change his desert of a situation at present, all Dean could do was sigh as he appraised his newest victim. As much as he detested Meg, his heart just wasn't in it.

Instead, he opened the green bottle that he had been clutching for dear life in his hand. A slight crack was heard as he separated the vessel from its cap whereupon he immediately chugged the beverage down his throat. Drinking had been routine in the past, and now Dean found that he had fallen back into the habit once again.

"You know, I'm still wondering is going to lead into anything. The tying me up part is making me hot."

Apparently, his captive was tired of being ignored.

Dean turned sharply. "Shut up," he hissed.

Sam's gaze panned over him, but he said nothing. Dean knew that he was failing him. From the expression on Sam's face, he knew that his brother was witnessing the end of an era. He was seeing his big brother weak.

Dean wondered when he would start not caring even about saving himself. It was as if Alastair was waiting for that exact moment.

Even now, Dean felt uneasy. His muscles were taut; ready to strike at anything that moved. Something was brewing, and his temperament was a reflection of the wild, twisted clouds outside, At least, his eyes had returned to green, but he that was nothing compared what faced him ahead.

Rather than torment himself any longer, Dean decided to launch himself right into it.

"So, what has he been saying about me?

Dean couldn't bear to say Alastair's name. He never wanted to say it again.

The demoness was obstinate. She blinked.

"Are you that curious? Is that all you kidnapped me for?"

So, she answered his question with a question. This wasn't helpful.

"Okay. Then, _why_ is he doing to me?"

Threateningly, Dean sauntered over to Meg. He had to reveal her hand somehow. At this point, any bit of information could assist him.

She frowned. "You of all people have to ask. How quickly you forget. You want to know why? He just likes you," she whispered consiprationally.

Dean's face was red. Unfortunately for her, he had reached the end of his patience. Faster than she could blink, he picked up the knife from the table and held it to her throat and pressed down on her collarbone until he could glimpse beads of blood. The indignant gasp alone was wroth it. He wanted to show her that he was capable of anything in his pursuit of answers

"You're good at mouthing off, aren't you? Let's try this again. I want information _now_."

Meg rolled her eyes. "You don't scare me. As you and your besties most likely have already heard, the origin of the soul bis ancient, in case you forgot. It's some serious stuff. Most demons nowadays aren't even aware of them let alone how to create one."

"What about breaking one?"

"Since the bond must be made willingly, there have been only a few rare instances of it, especially this century. The best cure is prevention. I would say at this point you're already up the RIver Styx without a paddle. You know it too."

A muscle twitched in Dean's jaw. He so wanted to rip into her, unleash his fear and pain, but he didn't to lose control in front of his "audience."

Panting, he drew closer to her face until their noses were almost touching.

"Then, tell how to weaken it. Anything. And, if you don't give me something, you're going to be in a world of pain, sister," he hissed.

They both knew that he didn't mean it. It was a bluff. Meg and he both knew that his control over the situation was slipping away. Soon, everyone would see it.

"Haven't been listening?" Meg scoffed. "You. _Can't_. So, why don't you dig deep. Maybe you'll discover treasure in there somewhere." She eyed the knife.

Dean knew that no matter how creative he got with his technique, he would never be able to torture her into saying anything differently. What Meg spoke was already the truth, and it sounded like a coffin lid closing. Not even swallow after swallow of the beer would be able to delay the pain for much longer. Dean knew now that he never had the luxury of choice; it was all just an illusion in the first place. Dean may as well have been blind. He sighed deeply. Meg had been his last resort. He had lost.

Dean had fooled himself into thinking that it could get better. All Dean told himself that all he had to do was keep running. He blamed himself for that error more than anyone could imagine.

"We should let her go." Dean announced suddenly.

"What?"" Bobby was startled. "_Why_?"

"She doesn't know how to break it," he snapped. "So, she's worthless."

"So, we should release her back into the wild just like that?" his brother snapped.

The tension in the room was palpable. Dean was aware that, at the moment, he wasn't to be trusted. Apparently, there were some suspicions that his loyalties were divided.

"Well, I have no complaints," Meg put in lazily.

"As soon as we untie her, she'll try to kill us." Sam stated without ripping eyes from her.

"Who, me?" Meg smiled sweetly.

'If anything happens to her, he would want revenge." Dean growled.

Dean noticed the quirk of Meg's red lips, and he could clearly see that she was enjoying his unease.

Dean wondered when the demon would show up. All Dean was doing now was stalling.

"I need a break," Dean said quickly as he headed for the direction of the door.

As Dean walked away, he heard a brief scuffling.

"Just leave him." Castiel ordered.

Dean was fine with that. He needed to be alone.

Once outside, as he breathed in the late spring air, he did his best to ignore an insidious sensation that seemed to be pulling him towards the woods. He knew if he passed through that curtain of darkness, he would be swallowed by it. A phantom lost in the night.

Dean's body was numb as he stood on the back porch; a man waiting for the world to end. It had crossed his mind on more than one occasion to let it. Then, he wouldn't have to deal with the strain of living anymore.

Slowly, it began to dawn on him that he was no longer alone.

"What do you want?" He found that his voice was dry and hoarse. There was no life left in it.

"Evening." Beside him, the angel smirked.

It seems that he was always such an amusing subject for the universe. Zachariah. _Great_. Now, Dean's life was complete.

Dean refused to reply as he stared out at the grass.

"It does no good bemoaning your fate," Zachariah chided. "Still, we still have work for you to do."

Dean was nowhere near thrilled. "Really?"

Zachariah leaned in close. "Nothing is panning out, is it? There's no gold in your tray. No reward for your efforts. No hope. But, you know what I see?"

"I see you want to make my life hell."

The angel cocked his head as he inspected him. "It appears that I am too late for that," Zachariah sneered. "But, allow me to explain your options like reasonable men."

"So, now you're going to try to save me?"

Zachariah chuckled "You can't be saved, boy. Just humor me."

Dean knew that he had no real choice in the matter. He was simply a pawn in this game and his moves were inconsequential. Unimportant.

Or...were they?

Dean wondered what Zachariah was getting at. He already _had_ help. Anna. Gabriel. Castiel. But, Dean knew that he couldn't reveal their input.

However, right here and now, he could learn Zachariah's motivations for his own purpose. Dean had nothing else going for him after all.

Dean started the game. "What options?"

Zachariah smiled indulgently. "If you want to know more, then walk with me."

Dean was left wondering if he had made the right choice as both beings stepped off the porch, or if he was digging himself into a deeper hole.


	47. SIlent Plea

Title: Silent Plea

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1,317

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

A/N: I apologize for the delay. I had a lack of inspiration for any fic writing, and life has been busier. If you squint at the end, you can see the AU where Addiction to the Rhythm takes place.

* * *

_So. It's come down to this_.

And so, the hunter and the angel silently walked together under the stars. It wasn't a pleasant stroll to put it mildly. Zachariah strode on ahead with his hands thoughtfully folded behind his back, and Dean numbly followed behind like a scared puppy. Judging from previous experiences with his father, Dean immediately had the impression that he was was to be scolded. If he was lucky.

And why not? It's not like he didn't deserve it.

Suddenly, the angel rounded on him, and Dean was forced to to stop in mid-step. It was stressful to even inhale another breath as he cautiously waited for an uncertain string of events to happen.

_Would Zachariah know anything? Did the angel know how to save him?_

Instead, Dean's heart dropped when he glimpsed the look of disgust that was evident from the second Zachariah turned around.

"Do you get get how screwed you are? Did it even cross your mind? " Zachariah's tone was smooth, even and unmistakeably superior.

Dean said nothing as his heart contracted in hatred. He knew that angel would only sneer at his pathetic excuses and protests, or better yet, laugh in his face. Still, Dean knew that his intent was to bitch at him, so he could take it in stride. However, it didn't help him feel any less like shit .

Zachariah moved closer, and Dean realized that he was slowly growing uncomfortable.

"_Is_ there any room for thought?" Zachariah further antagonized him.

The older Winchester _had_ already dwelled on it. So many times that there was no way to tell if Dean might be near insane right now.

Yet, under the mask of scolding him, he could tell that underneath it all the bastard was smiling. Zachariah was secretly amused by his pain, and Dean was becoming all too aware that he didn't have a true ally here. Dean wondered if this is where he would meet his end. Perhaps Zachariah planned to slay him tonight.

Under duress, Dean forced himself to remain respectful. With one move, the stern angel could reduce him to stardust, so Dean guessed that pissing him off wasn't not the best idea in the world.

"I have an idea, thank you very much," he replied coolly.

The angel shook his head. "You're still so arrogant. You wouldn't be if you were in my position. To be able to smell the taint from your soul. You're fortunate to be in a position where one of my kind would allow you to live."

The disgraced hunter hung his head. He knew that his actions had indeed been shameful, but he wouldn't give up until he redeemed himself.

Dean chose his words carefully. " You know, I'm not sitting back waiting for the end. I'm fighting for my humanity."

_What's left of it anyway_.

"You're barely hanging on to it," Zachariah taunted.

The other being was mere inches away from his face.

"But no matter," he sniffed. "Even abominations can have their uses."

It suddenly dawned on Dean that Zachariah was standing _way_ too close, so he didn't precisely know at what point he reached out and grabbed him. Even before he started struggling, Dean found that he was too exhausted to properly fend off Zachariah. Fighting off demons, Alastair, and the entire world was taking its toll. Dean just wanted it all to _stop_.

As Zachariah tackled him to the dirt, Dean knew that this time he would not be saved. There would be no miraculous encounter. No lucky intervention.

The grass and trees began to blur as Dean lost consciousness. All in all, this hadn't been a good idea.

Before Dean's lips could form Castiel's name, the world had died away.

* * *

Cautiously, Dean opened his eyes to find himself splayed out on a bed. The older Winchester groaned and turned to his side where he may have expected to see a woman he had picked up from a bar or maybe even Sammy rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Always a possibility if the motel room bore only had one bed.

When Dean took a moment to regain his bearings, it became clear that he shouldn't have made the effort.

"Good morning, sweet boy."

That voice. Dean knew it too well. It made him remember the fire, pain, and decades of empty despair.

Horrified and alert , Dean drew back from the d borrowed face, and the movement caused an odd pain that lanced across the chest and arm. Panicked, Dean looked down, and he could see angry lines of angry welts and burns raised on his bare flesh.

"I didn't realize that holy water was a kink, Deano. I learn something new about you every year," Alastair purred.

_Holy water_. The holy water had _burned_ him. Where the lore was concerned, that could mean one thing...

But it wasn't true. He as sure of it. This had to be an alternate reality.

_Or...was it simply the future?_

Dean supposed that he hadn't been saved.

As he continued to look down, his face blushed with shame when he realized that his hips were bare. Dean had obviously been getting busy with him. A little bit of pain, a little bit of pleasure. Regarding the circumstances, nausea rose in his throat. Zachariah had been sure to bring him here at this precise point in time.

"Enjoy this vacation while you can. You know that I don't share your sentiment for the world above ground. All the fun stuff happens below, remember?"

Dean would kill Zachariah when he saw him...which would be never. Regardless, the fantasy of how that would be accomplished was all he had to hold on to.

But, this is what he what he wanted, wasn't it? To be stop the agony. To stop the uncertainty_. _Now, he was well and fucked._  
_

It took all of Dean's mettle to not break down when Alastair sat down next to him.

_Help me_," he pleaded silently to the universe.

The world ignored him. It was futile. He knew that no one could hear him. The others were far, far way in another world. Trapped here for Zachariah's own amusement; Dean suspected the cruel angel was laughing at his misfortune in a dimensional gap somewhere. Why had the angel done this?

"My boy is needy," his former and now present master noted in a sing-song voice. "I wonder what I can do to change that."

Dean wondered if this Alastair was the real deal, but he knew better than to ask questions that wouldn't be answered. It felt real enough though when Alastair pressed his bare flesh against Dean's own. Dean's body was already interested, and he well remembered how Alastair's games had him screaming

Still, this wasn't the Dean that Alastair desired, but the monster he had created inside his skin. Dean had to bring him out somehow. He couldn't blow his cover or afford to allow himself to be vulnerable as it could endanger returning to his own time, not to mention bring more needless pain to himself.

Though Dean's body quivered against the mattress as Alastair loomed over him, he forced himself to smile as if he were having the time of his life. He would have to try his best to behave as the Dean in this world would behave. As Alastair's pet, Dean would enjoy whatever attention he lavished on him; ask for more like a proper masochist would. Hell, he would _beg_ for more. He could only hope that Alastair would buy it.

Dean wondered if Zachariah was enjoying himself. The depraved fuck would either ultimately have to send him back eventually or leave him here. The young demon voted for the latter.

As Alastair's fingers brushed over his navel, Dean wondered if anyone would notice him here. If anybody still cared about him, or if he was too far gone.


	48. Chessboard

Title: Chessboard

Author_:_ Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1, 868

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

_Sam! Castiel. I'm in here!_

For an instant, Dean wondered if Alastair could hear his desperate thoughts. In hell, the demon could always seem to guess what wavelength he was thinking on and respond in kind. In time, Dean learned how to suffer silently if only for a moment's respite from the soul-wrenching interrogation.

_Please_.

The word was added on for emphasis. Dean wearily wondered if he could elicit any sympathy from any being in the universe. Then again, he was Dean Winchester; the world quivered in joy when he was in pain.

He wasn't surprised when his pleas went unanswered. When he once again was forced to swallow back his disgust as he felt the demon's lips nip at his throat. Dean was already starting to feel his courage give way. He well recognized that Alastair's will was absolute; it always had been. Any resistance now would give him away that he was not the Dean he had reared, and it would not go unpunished.

Upon reflection, even Dean himself had to admit that he really was a perfect victim. No wonder he wasn't respected any more. Over the months, he had become so entangled in himself that he was trapped; tapped against the bed and trapped within himself.

_Oh, just not the man your daddy wanted you to be, huh, Dean?_

The demon's fingers were deceptively gentle as they grasped his jaw only to tilt his head for better access to his lips. Stomach rolling, Dean finally forced himself participate in the kiss. Alastair may have presumed that he was playing coy, but nothing was farther than the truth. In truth, he was just scared to respond.

Somehow, if left to his devices, Dean knew that Alastair would always find him. It was as if he were being forced to live out a fucked up story of Romeo and Juliet.

While assaulted by Alastair's tongue, It was slowly becoming an effort to forced himself not to numb out. However tempting it was not to feel anything, Dean knew that he needed to remain alert. His very life depended on it. Unfortunately, even if he were discovered, it was unlikely that Alastair would ever kill him. Still, _other_ things weren't out of the question. Things that involved twisting his spirit and opening his scars until he wished that he had never been saved from the pit.

Dean was momentarily relieved when their lips broke apart. At last, he could breathe again, even if it was only for a moment.

"Well, Dean? Should I?"

Dean nearly choked when he looked up and he registered the bottle in Alastair's hand. Instinctively, it on his tongue to say "no," but he already knew that it was impolite to refuse. Damned impossible, really.

Dean's skin crawled at the thought of pain, but of course, he could arouse no suspicion that this was not the Dean Alastair was used to. He would have to take it.

"Oh, you know what you can do," the voice that escaped his lips was so automatic that he scarcely recognized as it his own. It was was rough and smoky. Just the way Alastair liked it.

Alastair's smile was slow and lazy and fearsome to behold. "There he is."

It was an effort to keep just to keep his abdominal muscles relaxed. His only defense was the option to close his eyes right when the water splashed over his skin. He could hear his skin hiss and burn as the blessed water seared his flesh. Whether he was panting from pleasure or agony, Alastair would never know. Dean just hoped against hope that a wouldn't be able to discern the two.

Before Dean could properly recover from the invasion of pain, there was another drop. And, then another. As Dean writhed in torment, he suspected that it was exactly what he deserved.

His eyes lolling back, Dean hid his whimpers with inane chortling as memories of hell flooded over him. As it turned out, the impressions on his brain had never truly left. They never would. Dean didn't want to lay back and take it, but no matter how much he wanted to strike out and punch, he remained painfully aware that was a choice not available to him. No different from a chained dog.

He already knew that in the throes of his agony that his eyes had transformed. It was no longer possible to deny. In this world, he was one of the damned. And, for the first time, Dean was truly sickened at himself. Now, a perverse shell of his former self; he could only marvel how his good intentions had led to this.

He could only grasp why Zachariah had left him in such in such a dangerous place beyond the obvious reasons. Was it to teach him a lesson? Was it to get rid of him? Zachariah had an ulterior motive that he would have to discover in time before he was out of time. At least, Sam was safe. It was the only thought that kept Dean calm presently, and he clung to it like a boulder in a hurricane.

Dean was expecting more agony for Alastair's version of play time, and was surprised when the demon abruptly rose from the bed.

"I hate to cut this short, but I have other business to attend to. Not that you aren't important, of course. "

"Of course," Dean echoed.

There was no was no redemption for one such as him. Often, Dean why anyone even bothered. Were they bored? Did they enjoy lost causes? Was he a challenge? His brother, Castiel, Gabriel. He couldn't help but wonder if they knew something he didn't.

On his back, Dean counted his breaths as he waited for the door to close. Until he was alone.

Immediately after Alastair departed, he sprang from the bed and was on his feet searching for a reflective surface. He didn't have to look far for the mirror that was behind the bed. With dread uncurling in his heart, he gazed into it.

Black. His eyes were unmercifully black. So, it was true.

Staggering against the wall, Dean wondered what the hell had happened to his future. With a deep sigh, Dean stared at the floor. He wryly wondered if the soul bond was gone now.

Curious, he covered all floors of the small loft to inspect his surroundings and to ascertain that he was the only inhabitant. Satisfied, he returned to the neat as a pin bedroom.

it was if he had been tossed in an adventure game. and he had to make the right choices to win. However. he knew that Sam had more experience in that particular area.

The least he could do was get dressed. He discovered a pile of clothes unceremoniously tossed on the floor. Mechanically, he slid on the jeans before blinking at the black turtleneck. He questioned his other dimension self's fashion choices but suspected that Alastair was making him wear it. Here, he had no mind on his own. He followed orders like a mindless drone. A minion.

Suddenly, it dawned on Dean that he was no longer alone. Something or someone was standing behind him. His heart leapt in his chest. Had someone came to his rescue?

Instead of discovering a savior, he turned to see Zachariah standing there with a satisfied leer on his face. The matter of dressing now unimportant, Dean threw the shirt on the bed and leveled a glare at the being.

"Get me the fuck out of here."

At the order, the angel simply wagged one lone finger. "Not yet, dear boy. You have places to go, after all. People to talk to. Things to discover."

Dean clenched his fists as Zachariah watched him work himself into a rage. He could only imagine how much the rogue angel was enjoying his misery.

"Now, I didn't take you here because of my hatred of you, believe it or not. It's simply a game. An obstacle course, if you will."

Dean _did_ find that hard to believe, but he made no effort to argue. He was already aware that he was at a critical disadvantage.

"And, what do I get if I win?

Zachariah put a hand in his pocket. "You get to go back to your own time. Not that it's much better than this one."

Dean wanted that more than anything in the world. Maybe he could even prevent this freak show from happening.

Or, maybe he was too late. Maybe he was unknowingly doomed to be lost forever here forever. He couldn't help but wonder if there was a different Dean operating his body back in the real world.

"How about screw your game, and get me out of here now?" he hissed.

Zachariah simpered. "You must watch you temper. You wouldn't want your master to hear you and...fix you."

At the moment, all Dean wanted to do murder that bastard in a fit of murderous rage. The words rang all too true.

Yet, Dean realized that it would not be a smart move under these circumstances. Now, with the touch of a glowing finger, he could be annihilated. He was a demon now; a corrupt being. Angels smote them.

With nothing left to do, Dean watched him. Under his never ending stare, Zachariah grinned wider.

"Have fun. Remember to explore everywhere."

Dean didn't have a witty retort handy when the angel vanished.

One chance. He had one chance left.

Concentrating, Dean poured all his emption into his heart even though he suspected that he was wasting his time.

_Someone, anyone, find me! I'm in here!_

The room remained as empty as his hope. He already knew that no one had heard him. Castiel couldn't hear him.

Silently, he gave up. This was Zachariah he was dealing with after all. He wouldn't relent easily.

Dean didn't know if he should be relieved or not that he had to play house until Alastair got home. Here, he could regroup.

Disgusted, his attention returned to the shirt laying on the bed. With a grunt, he winced as the cotton brushed against his burns in the process of sliding it on. The burns stung and burned, but they would heal all too soon for their next session. It hadn't been his first time after all.

The hour passed could always leave except that he had nowhere to go and no escape plan. There was also no telling how much attention he would attract attention from the locals in the street, or if any brown noser would tell Alastair. Dean decided that he would go with the flow.

As it turned out, he never had the chance anyway. Dean cringed when, all of a sudden, the door flew open. Alastair had returned.

"Sorry to bother you, Deano, your services are required in another part of town."

Alastair requiring his services was never good. Dean wondered who would be screaming later.

Dean kept his voice neutral. "Really?"

"Yes," he sighed dramatically. "Your brother is being difficult. _Again_."

Dean's blood ran cold.

Apparently, the person who would be screaming might be Sam.

_Sammy, what the fuck are you doing here?_


End file.
